Gryffindors Never Die
by ChipmonkOnSpeed
Summary: Harry and Ron, both 58 and both alcoholics, are sent back to their 4th year and given a chance to do everything again. Will they be able to do it right this time? Or will history repeat itself? Cannon to Epilogue, then not so much...
1. Prologue

**Gryffindors Never Die  
(They Go to Hell and Regroup)  
**

**Prologue****  
**

By:  
ChipmonkOnSpeed

* * *

**Summary:**

_Harry and Ron, both 58 and both alcoholics, are sent back to their 4th year and given a chance to do everything again. Eh, what the hell! They already lost their families due to drinking. With Ron being the Minister of Magic, and Harry being the Head Auror and the Ministry's Dark Wizard Executioner... Fourth year should be easy! _

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters, nor the Harry Potter franchise, nor anything that is known to belong to people that are not me.

**Warning:** Language- lots of swearing. (Something that, in my experience, is normal for a fourteen year old _anyway_, so should be expected in a story about fourteen year old boys.)

* * *

**The Beyond**

James Potter, long deceased, kicked a Quaffle at the head of one Sirius Black, also long deceased. Sirius did not pay much attention to the sudden shock of the heavy ball bouncing off the side of his head. He was watching Albus Dumbledore, who had outlived him by all of a year, and Minerva McGonagall who had only passed on three years previously, plotting something.

He was sure they were plotting something.

In all of his years of life, Sirius had plotted many things.

In the 43 years of his death, Sirius had plotted many things.

He knew how to spot plotting.

Many people were with them, in the backyard of Godric's Hollow. They met there every year on Halloween, the Potter's Deathday, to catch up with the dead and the living.

Fred Weasley was throwing water balloons at Colin Creevey, who was retaliating with dirt clods. Cedric Diggory watched them with a smile. The young Hufflepuff had long since gotten over his bitterness at being murdered by Peter Pettigrew.

Speaking of that rodent, Sirius watched him emerge from the house with a tray of food. He was doomed to serve them for eternity. It made Sirius giggle a bit.

Remus Lupin pushed open the side gate and held it open for his wife, Tonks Lupin. Nobody had been able to convince her to change her name.

Mad-Eye Moody was parked in a corner, watching everybody carefully. In death, his face had been restored to the handsome look he had sported before he had been scarred, and both of his eyes were perfectly normal. To Sirius, it was creepier to look at than it had been in life.

Lily was fretting beside James as the two sat at a picnic table. She was holding a small bundle in her arms, one that had small waving arms. All of those gathered were members of the Order of the Phoenix, or people that had been killed by Voldemort and that had a connection to a living person.

They had all agreed to only actively watch the living on Halloween, so that they did not spend eternity staring at relatives. Dumbledore had made some connection to the Mirror of Erised, but few had understood that.

"Why are you so riled, Lily?" James asked.

"It's been so hard for me to watch him, James. First, seeing him with Petunia," Lily said, giving Dumbledore the same hard look that she always gave the Headmaster when her sister was mentioned. "Then through Hogwarts, and the Horcruxes! I thought everything would get better after Voldemort was killed."

"And it did Lily," James said. "For a while."

"Are we ready?" Sirius asked, bounding over to them. Everyone gathered around the table in anticipation. Remus had his arms around Tonks' waist, had her head was leaned back on his shoulder. Moody stood toward the back of the group. Minerva scolded Fred and Colin for roughhousing.

"But I'm sixty!" Fred said with a smile. He wormed his way into the middle of the group. He might have been sixty, but in death, his body was and would remain only twenty.

As they all sat there around the picnic table, the sky darkened and became what Lily would call a movie screen. James called it 'odd'.

_The Weasley's were holding their annual Halloween Party, with most of the family gathered at the Burrow. Fred teared up a bit at the sight of his twin holding a newborn grandson. "That's my Great-Nephew," he said quietly. _

_Hermione, 59, and Ginny, 57, were in the kitchen peeling and chopping. "Are they here yet?" Ginny asked. _

"_Who?" Hermione replied with a particularly vicious chop._

"_You know who." Both women paused for a minute at the moniker. Forty years had passed since Voldemort's death, but he had left impressions everywhere. "Our asshole ex-husbands."_

"_Didn't you hear?" Hermione asked. "There was an execution today. I expect they'll be out celebrating."_

"_Barbarians," Ginny spat. _

"_Are you talking about Dad again?" Ginny's daughter, Lily, was in the doorway. She was twenty-nine and quite stunning. _

"_How did you know, dear?" Ginny asked. _

_Lily rolled her eyes. "You turned the celery into mash," she answered. Ginny looked down and saw celery pulp. _

"_Will you please go take these to your grandparents?" Ginny asked her only daughter. Lily nodded and took the tray of lemonade out on the porch. Her grandparents, Molly and Arthur Weasley, were sitting beside each other in rocking chairs, talking quietly as the slowly rocked. _

_They were both in their late nineties, and were not expected to live much longer. It was commonly known that as soon as one went, the other would follow shortly. _

"Mom," Fred said calmly, tears in his eyes, "I think all those years of chasing grandkids got to you."

"Pshaw," Minerva said. "It was chasing you and George that got to the poor dear!"

_Lily handed the drinks to her grandparents and spoke to them quietly for a moment. After that, she ventured out into the yard to see her brothers. Albus and James were being right terrors. They were grown men with kids of their own, and there they were, being worse than all the kids put together. "Albus Severus! James Sirius! You are TOO OLD to be climbing trees! You are setting a BAD example for your children! GET DOWN!" _

_The two men dropped lightly from the tree and smirked at their little sister. Before she knew it, she was picked up and thrown in the nearby lake. Wulfric Potter, eldest child of Albus Potter, was eleven and somewhat bored with his family's antics. He dearly wished to see his grandfather, because Halloween was one of the few times of the year he could see the man. _

_As Wulfric walked back toward the Burrow, his grandfather and great-uncle appeared out of nowhere. "Grandpa!" he yelled, throwing himself into the man's arms. _

"_Hey, Wulfy," his grandfather said quietly into his ear. Harry Potter was the only person allowed to call him that, period. The man was Wulfric's hero, no doubt. It upset him greatly that so many members of the family disliked Harry. _

"_Hey, where's my hug?" Ron Weasley asked. _

"_You're a politician. Grandpa says not to trust politicians." Harry roared with laughter and picked Wulfric up into his arms. He carried the boy to the porch, where he stopped to say hello and hug Molly and Arthur._

"Oh, goodness," Lily said, "I'm a Great-Grandmother."

"You say that every year, Lily," a new voice said. They looked over and saw Severus Snape, who looked much better than he ever had in life. He had even made peace with the Marauders… except Wormtail.

"It scares me every year, Severus! I would be seventy-ugh," Lily said, unable to form the words.

"Seventy-eight, dear," James said helpfully. They had died only a year older than Fred, at twenty-one, so it was hard for them to imagine themselves so old.

They all decided to watch something else for a bit, because Harry and Ron were about to encounter Ginny and Hermione. That was never a pretty scene. They watched Cho Chang for a moment, tending her garden with her only grandchild. The watched a few of the students that either Albus or Minerva or both had known from Hogwarts.

_Teddy Lupin was with Andromeda, and they were doing some last minute shopping before heading over to the Burrow. Harry had more than stepped up as a godfather for Teddy. He had taught him how to ride a broom, taught him about girls, and done everything for him that a father would have done. Now, at forty years old, Teddy was taking care of his aging grandmother. She lived with him and his wife, Victoire Weasley-Lupin. _

_Harry and Ron had stayed at the party less than an hour, and they had spoken to everyone in the family that was speaking to them. It was then that they decided to go visit their favorite pub._

"I just can't watch that anymore," Lily said with a frustrated growl. "His life was wonderful, until he started drinking."

"I think, my dear," Dumbledore said, "that it was the legislation that came first."

"Oh, yes, that damn bill," Lily snapped. "Executions? How could Harry let something like Ministry Legislation destroy his marriage?"

"Harry believed he was doing the right thing," Minerva, the only one that had been alive then, said. She shook her head. "Everyone agreed with him, except his family."

"Ron did," James said, as though he needed everyone to know that one member of his son's family remained with him.

"Ron is the Minister of Magic," Minerva said, "he _wrote_ the legislation."

"I have to do something about this," Lily announced. She stood from the picnic table and moved to make her way toward the house.

"What are you going to do?" Remus asked.

"I'm going to convene a meeting, and try to convince _somebody_ to make things right," Lily answered from just inside the door.

"Does she think she's going to convince the universe to set things right for her son, who, no offence, screwed up his own life?" Tonks asked.

"Yes." Everybody stared at James. "She's Lily."

**2038 CE**

Harry Potter, fifty-eight years old, and his best friend, Ron Weasley, also fifty-eight, strode down the main rode of Hogsmead, discussing the day's events. It was very chilly outside, which left one to wonder why Harry was wearing only blue jeans and an old, well worn tee shirt that said, 'Will kill for food'. Ron, the Minister, was wearing formal Ministry robes, but had unclasped a good deal of it, making him look rumpled and disheveled.

Their intended target was the Hogshead, run by Seamus Finnigan, who also ran the Three Broomsticks, the Leaky Cauldron, and the Golden Wand. So, the man pretty much had a liquor monopoly in magical Great Britain. He certainly wasn't complaining. Each location catered to a different sort of clientele. The Three Broomsticks was for middle class working people. The Hogshead was for scoundrels and criminals and the lower classes. The Leaky Cauldron was for travelers and business men. The Golden Wand was for high society elite. Seamus spent the least amount of time there, because he stated it was 'boring as hell serving dry martinis to dry people'.

Harry liked the Hogshead because when he got roaring drunk, he could act like a complete punk and nobody would care, because they were all as drunk as he. Then, he could pass out on one of the beds Seamus kept upstairs!

A truly wonderful life he led.

Harry opened the door for Ron, and the two of them were about to step inside when, at the same time, they felt as if the force of gravity had increased ten thousand fold. They slammed to the ground hard, passing out instantly.


	2. Raise Your Glass

**Chapter 2:**  
**Raise Your Glass

* * *

October 30, 1994 CE**

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were walking through the Great Hall, with the Gryffindor table on their left, and the wall on the right. Harry was next to the table, and Ron was between Harry and the wall. They were speaking of the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the top ten reasons why Harry thought the whole thing was stupid.

Suddenly, to the surprise of all seated, Harry was thrown back several feet, landing on his back with the breath knocked out of him. Students closest to him jumped when he yelled, "Ah, fuck! What the hell was that? Weasley!"

"Harry?" Ron asked, turning to face his best mate. Then he too was thrown several feet. "What the fuck- Ow, god damn it!"

"Mr. Potter," Headmaster Dumbledore said as he and Professor McGonagall swept toward them, "Mr. Weasley."

"Holy fucking shit!" Ron bellowed, scrambling away from him and toward Harry. He fumbled for his wand and pointed it at the Headmaster's chest as soon as he had a firm grip. "Who the _fuck_ are you?"

"Weasley," snapped McGonagall.

"Holy shit," Harry whispered, looking around with wide eyes. "Holy shit. I've entered hell. Weasley, what the _fuck_ did you _do_?"

"Me? Bullshit. This is something that-" Ron cut himself off with a strangled scream, staring at his brothers, twins Fred and George. Ron screamed again and climbed on top of Harry as the green-eyed boy tried to stand.

Dumbledore took hold of both of them and led them to his office, with McGonagall following. Ron was babbling nonsense, but Harry stared fixedly at Dumbledore, his face stony and blank. When they entered the office, Dumbledore gestured both boys to sit, but neither did. Ron looked green.

"What is wrong with you two?" Dumbledore asked, as he himself sat behind his desk. McGonagall stood at his side, her arms crossed and her lips thinned. "Well?" Dumbledore asked in his usual gentle manner.

"You're _dead_!" Ron finally said. Dumbledore's brow crinkled, but McGonagall seemed to read that one differently.

"How dare you, Weasley! Threatening the Headmaster?" She was visibly shaking with rage.

"Harry watched you die! Forty years ago! What the fuck is going on?" Ron demanded. He still held his wand in his clenched fist. He looked to Harry and stared, transfixed. "Jesus, Harry, why do you look twelve again?"

"How old are you Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fifty- eight! I was born March first, nineteen-eighty. It is now two-thousand-thirty-eight! You've been dead since the end of our sixth year, when Snape killed you!" howled Ron.

"What is the last thing you remember, before being in the Great Hall?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"I was attending an execution of a Dark Wizard, by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Executions; Harry Potter!" Ron growled. He turned to look at Harry, who finally tore his eyes away from Dumbledore to return the look. "Remember?"

"Inmate: two-two-seven-four-one-B. Name: McClaggen, Cormac R. Crime: rape and murder of Lovegood, Luna A. Incarcerated: July twelfth, twenty-thirty. Execution: September second, twenty-thirty-eight, oh-seven-thirty. Method of execution: Killing Curse," Harry said without hesitation. Ron nodded and turned back to the professors.

"See? Harry and I were on our way for a celebratory pint, after he executed the prick."

"Executions are not legal, Weasley. And Cormac is in the Great Hall as we speak."

"As Minister of Magic," Ron said, "I legalized executions fifteen years ago- My wife divorced me over it and took the kids! But that's beside the point! Both of you are dead! Minerva McGonagall died three years ago! George lost an ear in ninety-seven, and Fred died ten months later! What is going on?"

Dumbledore stood and moved around his desk, toward Harry, who looked petrified. He took Harry's face in his hands, looking into his eyes. Harry's hands rested against Dumbledore's chest. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to push the other wizard away, but could not bring himself to do so.

"Drop your shields, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Harry shook his head, his eyes wide. "I promise you, Harry, I will not hurt you. You have my word as a man, and my oath as a wizard. Please, Harry, drop your shields."

Harry did so. He felt a gentle touch invade his thoughts and memories. Following Dumbledore's search carefully, Harry saw Sirius fall through the veil, Dumbledore fall from the Astronomy tower, George lose an ear, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Hedwig, Moody, Ted Tonks, Gellert Grindelwald, Dobby, Vincent Crabbe, Severus Snape, Colin Creevey, and Voldemort die only weeks before Harry turned eighteen. Harry becoming Head Auror ten years later; his three children born; Ron elected Minister; becoming Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; voting to legalize executions; executing criminals.

Dumbledore gently withdrew from his mind. His blue eyes looked terribly sad. "Thank you for allowing me to view your memories, Harry. I wish to extend the same favor to you."

"Albus?" McGonagall questioned, obviously worried.

Dumbledore ignored her. "Please, Harry. I would like you to know that I am not an imposter; that I am, in fact, Albus Dumbledore. You may view any memories you wish."

Harry did so. He entered Dumbledore's mind and watched him as a teacher. He seriously wanted to see Dumbledore as a teenager with Grindelwald, but he knew that would be taking advantage of the situation. He watched Dumbledore interact with students when he was in his forties. He looked for other such innocuous memories. Boring Wizengamot meetings, joking with colleagues, walking around the castle.

When he was satisfied the man before him was in fact Albus Dumbledore, he withdrew from his mind. Dumbledore smiled at him. "I thank you for your choice of memories, Harry. I could tell that there were memories you wished to see, but refrained. Why is that?"

"To have looked at them would have been a heinous invasion of privacy, and would have served no purpose beyond satisfying my own curiosity. I have not seen you for forty years; I do not wish to compromise the trust you have given me the very first time I see you."

"That's really Dumbledore?" Ron asked, pointing to the old man. Harry nodded. "Holy fuck. We've gone back in time."

"It appears so, Ronald," Dumbledore said, turning to face McGonagall. "Minerva, are you alright?" he asked.

"What do you mean, they've gone back in time?"

"They've returned to their fourteen-year-old selves. They are, in fact, fifty-eight years old mentally. They have all of their memories, everything they have learned, and all. Harry, a week ago, did not know what Occlumency was. Now he is at a Master's level. I believe that they are both animagi, as well. They retain all of their talents and weaknesses from their previous lives. And vices," Dumbledore said, glancing at Harry over his glasses.

"You mean to say that they have truly seen our deaths?" McGonagall asked.

"They have," confirmed Dumbledore with a nod. McGonagall looked between Harry and Ron, distressed.

"Whoa, mate, you just got a one time chance at a new liver. Maybe you can drink this one to oblivion in record time," Ron said, clapping Harry on the back with a smirk. "No more chasing your whiskey or tequila with liver detox-ers. Fresh start!"

"You mean I have to invent the Potter Potion all over again?" Harry asked, deadpan.

"What is that?" Dumbledore asked.

Ron replied, "Shot of rum, Felix Felicis, and Pepper-Up potion. Six or seven of those, you'll have the best party of your life."

"You're a heavy drinker, then?" Dumbledore asked, leaning against his desk.

Ron laughed darkly. "Are you kidding? It ended his marriage twenty years ago. He hasn't spoken to his kids in, what? Seven years?"

"Right in one," Harry said, his eyes dark. "It doesn't help that I am -was- the Head Executioner. Apparently, James and Albus found this repulsive. Molly thought it horrid, cruel, and unfair."

"You named a child Albus?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling.

"My three children are named James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Molly Lily. They are thirty-three, thirty-one, and twenty-nine."

"Do you have children, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked, looking at him.

"Rose and Hugo, thirty-one and twenty-nine," Ron replied. "And my kids still speak to me," he said, smirking at Harry.

"Hey, man, two of my grandkids speak to me!" Harry snapped. He deflated a bit. "Well, they owl. Mathew is twelve, and Wulfric is eleven."

"You have quite a large family," Dumbledore said.

"I always wanted a family," Harry said with a shrug. "So, what are we going to do? Is there any way to send us back?"

Dumbledore looked between them for a moment. "No," he said simply. Ron grimaced.

"I hated being fourteen. I was a complete twerp. And scrawny- Hey, wait! Ha! Harry, I'm finally stronger than you again! And I forgot you were that short! Shit, man, yer like five feet tall!"

"I am not! I'm five… six, or something. Sweet Jesus, I've shrunk ten inches." Harry dropped his head. "Ah, this sucks."

"Well, there is nothing for it," Dumbledore said jovially, "you'll have to attend Hogwarts once more!"

Harry and Ron looked to each other, and Harry said, "You hold him, I'll punch him."

"I got your six," Ron replied with a firm nod.

"Now, boys, it won't be that bad. Think of it this way; now you know what to avoid," McGonagall said soothingly.

"Yeah," Ron muttered, "the whiskey at Potter's bachelor party."

"Hey!" Harry said.

"Well, most people don't spike their whiskey with mind-altering drugs!" Ron said.

With a straight face, Harry replied, "That was an accident."

"Mr. Potter, there will be no consumption of alcohol on Hogwarts grounds!" McGonagall said sternly, pointing a threatening finger at him.

"Whoa, down girl. Remember, dear, you're only ten years older than me. Now, I don't personally go for older women, but you are within my age range…" Harry cut himself off when he saw the look McGonagall was giving him.

"This coming from man that dates women younger than his own children?"

"Shut up, Ronald. Remember, I was at your bachelor party, as well." The two men stared at each other for a moment.

"Yer an ass," Ron said.

"And you cheat on simple muggle tests," Harry replied.

"That was-"

Dumbledore cut off the argument before it could begin. "I think it would be wise if the two of you returned to the last few minutes of breakfast, and then proceed to classes as usual. Speak of this to no one, not even Ginerva or Hermione, if you would."

Together, Harry and Ron said, "As if I'd willingly speak to that no good dirty rotten money whore of a tramp."

"Strong feelings on the issue, then?" Dumbledore asked lightly. "You will, of course, continue your relationships as they are, to avoid suspicion."

"Don't think about it," Harry nearly snarled, starling the other people in the room. "I see that look in your eye. Whatever you are thinking, or planning, or contemplating… even any thoughts you might be entertaining- _forget it._ I have seen that look on your face more than once, and it has led me to bad places."

Feigning hurt, Dumbledore placed a hand over his heart and said, "Planning? Dear boy, I am thinking no such thing. It will simply be easier in the long run if you… You do not believe me? Fine. Just remember that I only ever have your best interest in mind."

Unwilling to say what he wanted, Harry turned on his heel and made for the door, muttering, "Best interests… tell you where to shove those… lord love a goat… genetically _predisposed_ to crazy…"

Classes that day were a very, very strange experience for the two men returned to their teenaged selves. Harry kept walking by people he had known in later life, and often almost made references to inside jokes they knew nothing about. One time, he almost cursed a few of them on reflex. That night the foreign students were arriving for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and Harry was determined to keep himself out of it. Sometimes, however, life didn't work his way.

Harry and Ron stood next to Hermione as all of Hogwarts watched the arrival of the foreign school. Beauxbatons Academy arrived in a flying carriage. Harry and Ron made snide remarks, causing Hermione to huff. When the Durmstrang students arrived, the boys chanted a deep march. "_Dum dum dumdum, dum dum dumdum dumdum__**dum**_."

"Boys," McGonagall snapped.

At the celebratory feast, Harry and Ron were impolitely working their way through several helpings of food; enough to feed the Roman army. They were interrupted when a beautiful Beauxbaton's girl leaned between them to ask for something. Ron, his mouth completely full, managed to say, "Nope, that's taken. Get your own, shove off!"

"You are rude!" the girl said with a thick French accent.

"Oi, Fleur," Ron snapped, "get buggered, I'm eating here!"

Harry tried to repress a hearty laugh. It was something that Fleur Weasley, Ron's sister-in-law, would have laughed at while rolling her eyes. It had taken her years to get used to his rough behavior. Seventeen-year-old Fleur, however, was deeply offended.

"Who are you to speak to me like ziz?" the part-Veela demanded. The scene was attracting attention.

It appeared to Harry that Ron dearly wanted to say, "The Minister of Magic, that's who!" but he could not. Ron slammed his hands on the table and stood up, whirling to face the French woman. "I am Ronald Bilius Weasley, best friend of Harry James Potter! You know what that means? Be nice to me, or he'll go _Revenge of the Sith_ on your ass!"

"I have never been spoken to like ziz!" Fleur snarled.

"Yeah, well buck up, you Prom Queen! Welcome to life!" Ron sat down and continued eating.

"_Revenge of the Sith_? Really? Not even _The Last Samurai_, or _Braveheart_?" Ron looked affronted by Harry's question.

"No, man," Ron said. "If I had to pick a fictional character for you, it'd be Darth Vader."

Harry stood and began walking from the hall. "Sure," he said sarcastically.

"No, really!" Ron called as he followed Harry. "Chosen One prophesized to end the Dark Side, murders a tribe to avenge his mother, The Hero-With-No-Fear, falls to the Dark Side, becomes Dark Lord of the Sith- Darth Vader. Come on, Harry! It's like it was written about you!" Ron said, gesticulating.

Without turning, Harry mildly asked, "Are you saying I'm going to fall to the Dark Side?"

"Mate, the Dark Side is sunshine and daisies compared to you."

"I'm seriously offended, man, and I have one thing to say," Harry stated. Just as he walked out of the hall, he bellowed, "_**Freedom**_!"

As it was, Harry and Ron were not popular people with the foreign students. However, "Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody" liked them well enough. Harry seriously wanted to pop the imposter in the nose, but refrained somehow. Ron came much closer on several occasions.

Halloween night, the feast was particularly tense. Ron continued to poke Harry in the ribs, until Harry finally yelled, "Fuck, man, do that again and I'm going to fuck you up so bad yer kids will be fucked up!"

Ignoring McGonagall's stern lecture, Ron yelled back, "Don't you think my kids will be fucked up enough, just for being related to me?"

"One more word, you two," threatened the Deputy Headmistress.

Harry held an index finger up to her and said, "Uno momento, por favor, Senorita McGonagall." He then turned to Ron and said, "Demasiado cerveza, mi amigo."

Ron replied, "Tú, yo, la cerveza. Después de la fiesta. La fuerza también arruinar por completo a mis futuros hijos."

"Si, my amigo."

Hermione, eyes wide, said, "Since when in the name of god do you two speak _Spanish_?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"You… you were just speaking Spanish."

Harry and Ron shook their heads. "No, no we weren't. You know, Hermione, hearing things is worrisome," Harry said serenely. "You should get that checked out."

"He is right, Hermione," Dean Thomas said with a straight face. "I understood what they were saying."

Before Hermione could reply, Dumbledore stood up, signaling the end of the Feast. It was then time to announce the Champions from the three schools. Ron poked him once more.

"That's it, Weasley!" Harry shouted. "Next time I see you alone in a dark ally, I'll keelhaul your ass."

"Mr. Potter, if I could have the floor, please? And, Mr. Weasley, please cease poking Mr. Potter." Dumbledore turned to the crowd and explained about the tournament.

Harry leaned to Ron and asked, "Should I prepare an acceptance speech, or just wing it?"

Ron simply smirked at him and turned back to the Headmaster.

"And now, the Champions!" Harry stopped paying attention, until a hush fell over the crowd. He knew that his moment was approaching.

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore whispered. The man slowly turned to Harry with an inquiring look. "Mr. Potter? They're waiting for you."

Harry rose slowly with a small grin on his face. "I go no where without my wingman. You never know when you are going to run into a ridiculously gorgeous woman. Ronald?"

"Got your six, mate," Ron said with a straight face. They walked between the table and the wall down toward Dumbledore, who looked mildly perplexed. Harry plucked the piece of paper with his name on it out of the man's hand and wadded it up into a tight little ball. He set it on the Staff Table and took aim. With a mighty flick, he launched the paper up in the air toward the Slytherin table. With a sharp curve, it landed in the goblet of a Ravenclaw Seventh Year; a young man that had put his name in the Goblet of Fire and lost. He looked pretty steamed, in fact.

Harry raised his arms up in victory. "I knew History of Magic would come in handy some day." That said, Harry turned and walked into the antechamber where the Champions were waiting. "Evenin'!" he declared as he walked in, the sound of the Great Hall diminishing as the door closed behind Ron.

"What are you two doing here?" Cedric asked.

"Well I have been chosen as a Hogwarts Champion, and Ron is here to make sure I don't kill any of you to eliminate the competition!" Harry said jovially. His smile didn't fade when he noticed the angry looks he was getting.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, the other school heads, and the Ministry officials in charge of the event strode in a moment later. "Harry Potter, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore demanded. He was standing just inches from Harry, so close that their noses were almost touching. There was a spark of curiosity in the man's eyes.

"Me?" Harry asked, delicately placing a hand over his heart. "I would _never_, sir. To be accused of such a thing is absolutely astounding. I shall now dedicate the next three and a half minutes to brooding." Harry forced his features into a dark mask, reminiscent of Severus Snape.

"Wonderful, Harry," Dumbledore said, rolling his eyes. "Do you have any idea how your name was entered?"

Harry smirked. "Haven't the foggiest. My money's on Malfoy."

Ron made an unsure sound. "I say Snape."

"To each his own, I suppose," Dumbledore said calmly. The old man was watching both boys closely, suspicious.

"Isn't there a reason we're here?" Harry asked in a stage whisper.

"Of course," Dumbledore said.

After the first task was explained to the Champions, Harry and Ron reemerged from the room into the Great Hall. People were looking at Harry angrily. Harry, quite used to angry stares, smiled charmingly at them and strutted from the Hall.

Dean, Seamus, and Neville stared at Harry as he changed for bed. They had been staring at him since they entered the room. "I don't want to sound at all prejudiced or rude or unsupportive, but I got a real problem with dudes staring at me while I'm half naked. Now, if that is just how you are, I'm cool with that. But eyes off."

The three other boys blushed and quickly moved about getting ready for bed. "How did you do it, Harry? How did you get you name in?"

"I didn't. I think someone is trying to humiliate me. My money is on Malfoy."

"I say Snape," Ron said from his position of laying down staring at the wall. He had been snoring throughout the whole conversation, but regained consciousness long enough to point a finger at his least favorite teacher. The snoring resumed shortly.

"Whatever. The point is, someone is out to get me."

"Don't worry, mate," Seamus said from behind his bed curtains, "we got your back."

"Thanks, Seamus."

As Harry entered the common room the next morning, there was a group of people waiting for him. He had missed the common room, with its feeling of safety and home. He had also missed the people. They were still so young, so untouched by evil. Colin Creevey was sitting there, smiling away with his camera. When Harry knew him, he never made it to 17.

"Why, hello there," Harry said. "What is going on here?"

"Dean and Seamus say you didn't put your name in the Goblet. Is that true?" Lavender Brown asked.

"Of course it is. Why would I put my name in? I don't want to compete. I have enough chances to get myself kill every year, without this ridiculous tournament."

"Then who put your name in?" Parvati Patil demanded.

"Someone who wants me hurt, or humiliated," he replied calmly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm hungry."

The walk through the castle was trying. The stares and the whispers were bad enough, but some of the people were people he had known later in life, that he had put in prison or saved from Dark wizards.

No gratitude.

Harry and Ron made it to the Great Hall in one piece. When they got there, however, Hermione Granger was waiting. She wanted answers.

"What is the matter with you two?" she asked. "Last week you were perfectly normal, now you're acting all strange. And speaking Spanish? What is this?" she demanded.

"Spanish?" Harry asked. "I still don't know what you're talking about." He shoved some sausage and egg in his mouth and continued to look at her with concern.

"Harry, you've never been good with attention before, and now all the sudden you're Mr. Spotlight!" she snapped. "And you, Ron, have not made one comment about Harry's name coming out of the Goblet. I would have expected you to be angry!"

"Angry?" Ron asked. He also looked at her in concern. "Are you alright, Hermione? You're acting awful funny."

"Me?" she snarled. "You two are being downright crazy!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then back to Hermione. They slowly lowered their silverware to their plates and pushed back from the table slightly. "Listen, Hermione, if you need to see someone about this, we won't think any less of you. There's no shame in seeing a psychologist," Harry said soothingly.

"A psychologist?" Hermione screeched. A few heads turned in their direction in confusion. "_I_ should see a psychologist? I'm perfectly fine! You two are nutters!"

"Listen, Hermione, I've read about this," Ron said, in all seriousness. "Have you had any big gaps in memory lately? Woken up and not knowing where you are?"

"_What_ are you implying, Ronald Weasley? Because I'm fed up with your nonsense."

"I think you're being possessed!" Ron yelled, drawing most people's attention. "By the Devil."

Hermione's face became eerily calm. "You think I am being possessed by the Devil," she repeated. "And what makes you think this?"

"You're hearing things in strange languages. You look like you haven't slept in weeks. You've got a twitch in your right eye. And you study magic, which we all know is of the Devil."

Hermione's face then burned with rage. "We're at a SCHOOL of MAGIC, idiot!" Hermione then let out a frustrated, strangled growl. It was a loud, frightening sound, like that of an angry boar being eaten by an angrier bear that's been sodomized by a dying duck.

"_SATAN_!" Harry and Ron screamed as they dove over the Hufflepuff table, and under the Ravenclaw table.

"I want my mommy!" Ron yelled.

"I want your sister!"

There was several seconds of silence from under the table.

Then Ron said, "Not cool, man… Oooh! Black panties! Girls only wear _black_ panties when they want-"

"Ow!" Harry yelled. Several feet were suddenly kicking him, and he and Ron found that their hiding place was no longer safe. "Ow, what the… He said it! Kick _him_!"

The two scrambled from under the table and found that several people were glaring at them. They shook hands. "People hate us, and breakfast isn't even over," Ron said proudly.

"Mission accomplished."

They casually walked from the hall, discussing Quidditch in calm voices.

They failed to remember that they had Transfiguration first thing that morning. McGonagall glared at them as they entered, took one of each of their ears, and marched them to her office. She sat them down and glared down at them as she towered above the two fourteen-year-old boys.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted in an angry voice. Her eyes were blazing with anger. "You two are… unbelievably…. You…. Just wait here. I will talk to you after class. I have half a mind to make you stand in separate corners! One peep out of you, and I'll convince the Headmaster that the entirety of the dungeons needs to be cleaned spotless. With toothbrushes. By the two of you. Stay."

The angry woman walked from the office and slammed the door behind her. Harry and Ron looked at each other, grinning mischievously. They talked for several minutes. The class was a normal one, only an hour long. "That's something James would have. . ."

Ron broke off. The two men stared at each other for several seconds, before Harry whispered, "We really are never going to see them again, are we?"

"No, no Harry, I don't think we are."

Unbidden tears slipped down their faces, blurring their sight. "We'll never see our grandkids again."

"I promised to teach Wulfric how to Feint."

Harry's words were the last straw. The two men, once famous for their bravery and daring and cool heads, sat together and cried.

Minerva had summoned Albus to her office, and she nearly ran into him as she stormed to the transfiguration office. The room had once been Albus' domain, where she and Albus had spent many afternoons sipping tea and discussing Transfiguration, she a top student, he a brilliant scholar.

"Ah, Minerva," Albus said with a smile. "What is the urgent business?"

"Potter and Weasley. Their stunt in the Great Hall," she answered. She opened the door with a bit of anger, and was about to snap something at the boys when she stopped dead. Albus almost ran into her. "Potter? Weasley?"

Albus looked into the office and saw the two young men hurriedly rubbing at their eyes and wiping their noses. The two professors moved into the room and stood beside the red-eyed teens. "What is the matter?" Albus asked. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, which were shaking softly. Minerva did the same to Ron, and they looked at the boys, concerned.

"It's nothing, Professor," Harry said. Neither of the teens would look at the professors.

"Harry, Ron," Albus said seriously, kneeling beside Harry, "Professor McGonagall and I are here to help you, with anything. Now, please, tell me what the problem is."

Ron, still wiping his face, angered by his still dripping eyes, said, "Harry and I just realized that we'll never see our families again. We'll never see our kids or grandkids, or nieces or nephews or great-nieces or great-nephews. We'll never see which house they're sorted into."

"I'll never teach Wulfric the Wronski Feint."

"Hugo and I will never get drunk and wrestle in the front yard until the cops are called again."

"I'll never throw paper airplanes at James at Department meetings."

Minerva looked at Albus, and both of them agreed at that moment that the two boys had never grown up.

They had talked themselves into tears again. Albus pulled Harry toward him and held the small head to his chest as he hugged him. Minerva did the same to Ron, who quite uncharacteristically didn't seem bothered by the proximity of the professor.

It was another ten minutes before both boys had calmed. Harry wiped his eyes again. "Sorry, Professor," Harry said hoarsely.

"I have to get to my next class, Albus," Minerva said. Albus waved her away. He summoned a house elf and asked for tea. He set it on the desk and offered each boy a cup. They both took one and sipped.

"Do you feel better?" Albus asked quietly.

Ron nodded, and looked at his best friend in concern. He had a better relationship with his kids than Harry did with his. It was obvious that Harry regretted not spending more time with his family. "Harry?" he asked his friend.

Harry nodded.

"Harry, have you ever cried before?" Albus asked.

"Not really," Harry replied dully. "Never had time."

"You're nearing sixty years old, and you've never cried before?" Albus asked, in complete disbelief.

"Well, never sobbed before. There's been, you know, tears. At your funeral, at Tonks and Remus' funeral. I think I cried when James was born," Harry said. He rubbed his eyes more.

"And do you feel better now?" Albus asked again.

"A bit. But now my nose is runny and my eyes sting."

Albus laughed softly. "Now, boys, what was that stunt this morning?"

Ron chuckled. "We're sorry. We get a little exuberant. Besides, I still have a little residual anger toward Hermione. Seeing her always makes me a little, um. . . See, she didn't go for a no-fault divorce. She sued me for. . ."

"Infidelity," Harry supplied with an ironic smirk into his teacup.

Albus nearly choked on his tea. "Pardon?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "She alleged I was cheating on her with my job. She made all sorts of wild accusations. She said I neglected my family and spent _nights_ away. I was the Minister of Magic, so none of the allegations stuck. It was humiliating, though. Every day, her face was front page of the _Daily Prophet_, declaring some other lie about me."

"I understand that there might be some hard feelings between you and other students, based on things that _have not_ happened yet. But you must let that go. All of it," Albus said, looking between the two boys. "Tormenting people who have not yet done anything wrong is not okay. Do you understand this?" he asked.

"Yes sir," both boys said solemnly.

"Good! I know this will not be easy for you. I also know that you are both much older than fourteen, and house points and detentions mean very little to you. How do you think I should punish you?" Albus asked.

He quite enjoyed asking misbehaving students how they should be punished. He often got rather funny answers in return, especially from the likes of the Weasley Twins and the Marauders.

"Well?" Albus prompted. He was trying very hard to maintain a stern look.

"I dunno," Ron answered. He was avoiding the Headmaster's eyes.

"Harry?" Albus asked.

"Um, that's your job, sir," Harry said.

Albus looked at the two boys over his glasses. "Meet me in my office directly after dinner. I will have decided on a punishment by then."

"Yes sir," both boys said.

"Now, get cleaned up. I'll right a note for Professor Flitwick." Albus took parchment and quill from one of his deep pockets and wrote a quick note. "He expects you in fifteen minutes. He just does not know it yet. Now, scram," Albus said sternly.

Harry and Ron stood and trudged to the door. Harry turned back at the threshold and glanced over his shoulder.

"Sir?" he said quietly.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thanks for not, you know," the boy said, "making fun of me."

"You're welcome, Harry," Albus replied sincerely.

Harry left, leaving Albus alone in the office. Now all Albus had to do was come up with a punishment for two fifty-eight-year-old men that were overly high-spirited. Albus decided that a trip to Aberforth's pub for some advice was in order.

Ab was an unbiased opinion that Albus often relied on to decide on punishments. Especially when Albus felt he might be too soft on some delinquent he was fond of.

Albus entered the pub and greeted his brother warmly. He got a grunt in reply. "Ab, I need your advice."

"You got some troublemakers, Al?" Aberforth said.

"I certainly do. Will you help me out?"

"Sure. What's the problem?"

Albus sighed and explained the morning's events, leaving out who, exactly, the troublemakers were.

"I see," Aberforth said as he cleaned a glass. He set a glass of lemonade in front of Albus, who thanked him. "You like these boys, don't you?"

It was not really a question, but Albus answered. "I do. They are good boys, from good families." Aberforth knew that 'good family' probably meant they were members of the Order. "They've never been much trouble before, but recently they've gone through some pretty traumatizing events, and gotten a bit rebellious."

"Hmm." Aberforth went into his backroom for a moment, and then moved back toward Albus. "Send them over to me, Al. I need some help cleaning up around her. Getting organized, you know. There's a thick layer of dust hiding my backroom. I don't want to do that myself."

Albus thought a moment. "They'll be here Saturday. What time?"

Aberforth scratched his beard and stared at the top of the bar. "I get up at five to feed the goats," he said. "Bout then is fine."

Albus nodded. "They'll be here. Thanks, Ab."

"Yeah, whatever."


	3. If Your Are Wrong

**Chapter 3:****  
If You Are Wrong  
**

Albus walked back up to the castle and thought about Harry and Ron, and their predicament. He wondered what he would do if he suddenly found himself fourteen again. It would be a nightmare, he figured. His mother and sister would still be alive. He would have to relive their deaths over again, because he doubted he could prevent his mother's, and he was not sure about his sister.

He would have to do everything over again. He would go from world-famous and well respected to a somewhat gifted student.

Ron had been Minister of Magic. He was a high-powered politician, with an army of assistants and loyal followers. People respected him, looked up to him.

Harry had been the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was respected, feared even. He was the Slayer of Voldemort, the enemy of all dark wizards.

Now, they were fourteen years old and completely powerless. Neither of them had been made to answer to authority in years. They had _been_ the authority.

Albus wondered what he would do in that situation. He would probably act out as well.

But it was not going to be tolerated at Hogwarts.

Albus was surprised by how fast time travelled when he didn't want it to. It seemed as if no time at all passed before Harry and Ron were knocking on his door. "Enter," he called. He was seated behind his desk, tapping his fingers together.

Harry and Ron entered his office and sat down quietly. "Well, boys, have you given any thought to what your punishment should be?"

"No sir," Harry said. Ron gave him a sharp look.

"I appreciate your honesty, Harry," Albus said quietly. He stood and moved around to the front of his desk, and sat on the edge of the cluttered top. He looked at both of them with a projected feeling of disappointment, the same one he had used when they were second years. "I have, in fact, made a decision. This Saturday, you two will help my brother Aberforth, in his pub in Hogsmeade. He is in desperate need of help organizing his backroom. You will do everything he says, I do not care how trivial. Do you understand?" He used his sternest tone, hoping to make an impression.

"Yes sir," they said meekly. They had forgotten just how intimidating Dumbledore could be.

"Good. You'll be there at five in the morning."

"What?" Ron yelped.

"You'll be there at five in the morning," he repeated.

"I don't hit stride till three in the afternoon," Ron said firmly. "I'm absolutely worthless before my third cup of coffee."

Albus looked at him over his glasses. "Five AM. No arguments. I'm being extremely lenient here, boys. Looking up girls' skirts is frowned upon at Hogwarts."

"Lookin' up skirts? How? Those things practically drag on the ground!" Ron said. "I just guessed about the panty color. Guess I was right. Who knew Ravenclaw girls are such-"

"Think very carefully about your next word, Ron," Albus said calmly.

"I think I'll leave it unsaid," Ron said wisely. Albus nodded.

"On top of that, you will each write me an essay on proper school behavior, and why yours was unacceptable. I expect it in one week's time, on my desk before breakfast. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," they said.

"Good. You are also restricted to your dormitory when not in class or eating meals. You have one hour after your last class to gather books from the library."

"For how long, sir?" Harry asked, staring at the floor.

"Three weeks. Until the First Task. Do you understand what I have said?"

"Yes sir," the boys said.

"Good." The Headmaster stood and took a shoulder of each boy and guided them to the door. "Goodnight, boys. Straight to your dorm. Dormitory, boys, not common room."

They nodded. "Goodnight, Headmaster," they said in unison.

Albus watched them head down the staircase with a small smile. He was sure that the two boys would go stir-crazy within three days.

Harry and Ron sat in their dorm on their beds, talking quietly. "You were never grounded?" Ron asked.

"Well, Vernon never called it that. He just shoved me in my cupboard and didn't feed me for a week or so."

Ron was quiet for a second. "If ever you find yourself in hot water with my mum, tell her _that_ and redirect all her anger at Dumbledore. I suggest you do so when Dumbledore is actually present."

"Have I ever been in hot water with your mother?" Harry asked.

"Um, no, not that I recall. She does like you quite a bit." Ron paused a second and then continued, "There was that one time when you broke your leg jumping from a building chasing that French wizard through muggle London."

"She was upset?"

"She rolled her eyes a little. That's about as angry as I ever saw her get at you. She probably wouldn't've done that if you hadn't kept chasing him with a broken leg."

"Oh," Harry said. A few minutes later, he huffed and said, "I can't stand this."

"Harry, we've only been in here an hour. What are you going to do for three weeks?" Ron asked. He jumped as he heard a _thwump_. He looked over the side of his bed and saw Harry between their two beds doing push-ups. "Oh. I see. Well, have fun with that."

"Come on, Ron," Harry said. "You're a little flabby, too, you know."

Ron groaned and dropped to the ground next to Harry and began some sit-ups. They did push-ups and sit-ups and chin-ups until it was time to prepare for bed. They got up and moved toward the bathroom.

"Good god, you're sweaty, Harry!" Dean said as he walked by as Harry moved toward the shower. "What have you been doing?"

"Abdominals, mostly," Harry replied. "I have to get in shape."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Harry showered and changed for bed, and then sat on the floor between his bed and Ron's, and did some stretches so his muscles wouldn't tighten up. Ron did the same thing. Fully stretched, he dropped on to his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Now I'm hungry."

"Bedtime, Harry," Seamus said.

"I'm hungry."

"Can't help you."

"You know, Neville keeps a sugar stash under his bed," Harry said thoughtfully.

Neville's gulp was almost audible. "No I don't."

"Yes, yes you do, Neville," Harry said calmly.

"You know," Ron said, just as calm, "I'm kinda hungry myself."

"Don't even think about it," Neville said in his best intimidating voice. Harry and Ron, however, had faced down Snatchers, goblins, Death Eaters, Voldemort, dark wizards in the courtroom, dark wizards on the street, men about to be executed. . .

All in all, Neville Longbottom was not all that intimidating.

"I think, Neville, that surrender is your only option. Resistance is futile," Harry said calmly. He spoke in a very normal, conversational tone.

Neville's voice hardened just a bit, resembling the tone Harry remembered from the Battle of Hogwarts, and the man Neville had become after that night. "You'll have to get through me, first."

Harry and Ron had been friends for decades. They could read each other very, very well. It had saved their lives at Hogwarts, and saved many lives when they became Aurors.

With a signal that was nearly invisible, Harry and Ron both attacked. Ron struggled with Neville and pinned him down while Harry searched for the candy.

Neville surprised both of them when he threw Ron to the floor and tackled Harry. Neville was not all baby fat after all; he had a fair bit of muscle. Seamus and Dean joined the fray, and it turned into a massive pillow fight.

In the end, all five boys shared the massive pile of candy that Neville kept 'in case of emergencies'.

"Don't worry, Neville, I'll owl Honeydukes in the morning and have you paid back with interest," Harry promised. Neville smiled at him.

When the Gryffindor fourth year boys walked into the Great Hall the next morning, McGonagall swooped down upon them like an eagle after prey. "What has happened to you five?" she demanded.

They looked at each other, confused. Being male, they hardly glanced in the mirror in the morning before leaving the dorm. In the morning light of the hall, however, they noticed that they had bruises on their faces. Ron had quite the shiner on his left eye. Seamus had a scratch across his cheek.

The sight of students in trouble always attracted attention at Hogwarts. Therefore, most of the students already in the hall were surprised, shocked even, when Neville looked McGonagall in the eye and said with a straight face, "Male bonding."

She glared at him, but he was hardly fazed. He had tackled Harry Potter. He had lost, but not many people he knew of had even tried. In fact, he and You-Know-Who might be the only ones that had really tried to take down the Boy-Who-Lived. And Neville was emboldened.

"Cute, Mr. Longbottom. Potter, Weasley, I assume you started this male bonding?" she snapped.

The two accused looked between themselves, and then to McGonagall. "You know, Professor," Harry said indignantly, "assumptions m-"

"Potter, if you are going to say what I think you are going to say- _don't_."

"I was _going_ to say that assumptions may be detrimental to someone's reputation. But, there you go, assuming again," Harry said, shaking his head with his arms crossed.

"What happened?" the stern professor asked.

"Pillow fight," Dean answered.

She stared at them. "How does a pillow fight cause bodily injury?"

"Firm pillows," Seamus said.

"And your scratch?"

"Tough seams," Ron supplied.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. You boys are beyond help," she said as she walked away with a swift pace toward the teacher's table.

The boys were silent for a moment, until Seamus said, "And to think; last year we were just 'hopeless'."

"Sweet," Dean said with a smirk.

They sat for breakfast and talked. Harry penned a letter to Honeydukes, giving the authorization code for his account. As Head Auror, Harry had practically had a standing order with the owner of the candy store, because he kept Auror Headquarters well stocked with chocolate, to fend off the after effect of dementors, and other candy, to keep the Aurors from getting grumpy and depressed.

"There, Neville, you'll be restocked by dinnertime."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Seamus said, "it takes days to fill an order of that size."

Harry looked at him. Seamus was across the table and next to Ron. Harry blinked twice, slowly. "I give big tips," he said simply. He then stood with Ron as they headed for charms.

Seamus shouted after them, "You _bribed_ the candy shop to send your order quicker?"

"Duh," Harry said. "Who knows? Sugar might be the only thing that keeps Neville from killing us all."

Seamus and Dean slowly turned to look at Neville, who smiled innocently. They inched away.

Charms class that day was interesting for Harry. Working on the Summoning Charm again was almost too strange for Harry. Harry and Ron looked at each other, trying to decide how to handle it. "Um…" Ron said.

Harry shrugged and muttered, "_Accio Parvati's bracelet_."

The force of the spell dragged Parvati across the classroom, shrieking. Harry, unfazed, took the bracelet, and her wrist, and asked, "Is this real gold?"

"What did you just do?" she demanded, yanking her wrist away.

"I Summoned you to ask about your bracelet. More precisely, I Summoned your bracelet. You were just a bonus," he said smoothly. Parvati blushed a little.

"Well done, Harry! I've never seen such a good result on a first try!" Flitwick announced.

Harry and Ron then got into a contest to see who could summon the heaviest objects. Flitwick was beyond giddy by the end of class, though the bit where Harry and Ron had both summoned the tiny professor, catching him in a tug-of-war situation, had made Flitwick threaten detention.

Hermione was not speaking to them, and it became apparent in Herbology. She was doing her level best to ignore both of them, which was not quite in her best interest. Being Hermione, however, she considered herself smarter than the average houseplant.

"Hermione, you don't need that much fertilizer," Harry said. After another moment, he warned, "You really are using too much fertilizer, Hermione. The plant won't like that."

"You should listen to him, Hermione," Ron advised. They were replanting… something. Harry and Ron, who had done it before, really weren't bothered to pay that much attention. But they knew that the plant would attack when aggravated.

And attack it did.

Hermione swore, loudly, when the plant snapped a mouth-like thing at her face. Vines sneaked out and wrapped around her throat.

Reacting instinctively, Ron took a pair of pruning shears and attacked the vine near Hermione' neck. Harry stabbed through the heart of the plant. It took moments to free Hermione of the carnivorous plant. When they were done, Harry and Ron simply went back to replanting their own projects.

Their pulses remained normal, their heart rates remained normal, their breathing remained normal. To look at them, they would appear as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened. They were old hands at staying cool and level-headed in emergencies.

By the time Professor Sprout made it to their table, the only thing out of place was Hermione's shaken countenance, and her dying plant. "What did you manage to do, Miss Granger?" she asked, perplexed.

"I… I. . . The plant, it just. . . And then they. . ." she said, pointing to Harry and Ron. "And it died," she finished lamely.

Sprout did not look convinced of anything, especially Hermione's sanity. "You know, dear," she said, quietly so that only Hermione, Ron, and Harry could hear her, "you are a very intelligent girl. Very, very smart. It's a bit scary, actually. But you, like so many Ravenclaws, actually, excel at theoretical. Sadly, Herbology is a very practical class. You are quite good, but I think that the only way to truly succeed in this class, to really shine, is to love plants. Neville loves plants."

"And I love books," Hermione said. She stared down at the remains of her pitiful plant, and realized that she would never be great at Herbology.

"Don't worry, dear," Sprout said brightly, "your future lies outside of plants. You'll go very far. That I do know. Don't let this little mishap bother you. It will not hurt your grade; you have so much extra credit in tests and homework that this little matter is trivial."

Sprout cleared away the dead plant and then turned to Harry and Ron, who were done. She looked surprised. "Well, wow, boys. I am impressed. Weasley, I was sure you would end up throwing this one across the greenhouse!"

Ron smiled.

Lunch that after noon saw carnage brought to the Great Hall. Harry and Ron sat down to eat, far from Hermione, and attacked their food with such ferocity that they might as well have ripped a leg off of a boar and eaten it raw. It would have been just as polite as the way they dug into piles of turkey sandwiches.

McGonagall walked by and asked, "Potter, do you know the meaning of the word 'decorum'?"

"Does that mean-"

"I don't want to hear a smart remark."

"Well, that's quite a thing for a teacher to say," Harry said as he swallowed a large chunk of potato salad.

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry went back to his sandwich.

Their last class of the day was Divination, something that they had both been looking forward to all day. It had been years since they had been able to completely make something up and get away with it. Divination was one place where skullduggery was just about written into the curriculum.

They both had a huge amount of fun making stuff up and generally being nuisances.

After class, Harry and Ron walked up to their dormitory. They had decided that they would do homework from memory, and what they did not remember was obviously not that important in the first place.

Hermione looked around the Great Hall at dinner, suspicious. She could not see Ron or Harry, and they were not known for missing meals. Determined, the brown-haired girl walked over to Seamus and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, Hermione demanded, "Where are Harry and Ron?"

"In the dorm. They're not allowed out except for classes and meals. I don't know why they haven't come down yet."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. She was angry at them for making fun of her the morning before, but they were growing boys and should not be missing meals.

Sitting down with a small huff, Hermione went back to her soup and her book.

Neville was munching happily on some carrots when an owl dropped a note in front of him. Mail delivery was not normal during dinnertime, so Neville opened the note cautiously.

_Mr. Neville Longbottom,_

_One Mr. Potter owled me this morning and asked that I send to you a very large order of candy, and charge it to his account. I have done so. I do not usually deliver so much candy to one student at a time, but I knew James and Lily Potter, and I knew your parents, Frank and Alice, as well. Your mother had quite the sweet tooth. _

_Because I dearly miss the Potter's, and hold your parents in the highest regard for their bravery, I have doubled the order at no cost. As such, I feel obliged, mostly to save myself from Professor McGonagall, to warn you that you SHOULD NOT open this box in the Great Hall. Please make every effort to get to your dorm before either you open the box, or it explodes. _

_Please also inform Mr. Potter that his other request is also included, and that he takes after his father in a surprising number of ways._

_Best wishes,_

_A. Flume_

As he finished reading, Neville looked up to see no less than ten owls hauling a huge box into the Great Hall. "Jesus Christ Almighty in Heaven," Dean breathed.

The box was as big as a coffin.

"Is that…?" Seamus asked.

Neville nodded. The box landed in front of Neville with a thunderous sound. Gryffindor table protested a bit with a creak.

"Mates," Dean said, a bit awed, "I think I just lost my appetite, if you know what I mean."

"Aye," Seamus agreed. "Say, Dean, we should be good mates and help Neville carry this up to the dorm, shouldn't we?"

"What the hell?" Neville demanded.

Two more owls, carrying a box as big as a crate, dropped their delivery on the other box.

"We've died and gone to sugar heaven," Dean mumbled.

"So, levitation charm, or-"

Before Seamus could finish, the big box lifted from the table and zoomed from the hall. "Harry," the three boys said at once. Seamus hauled the smaller box onto one shoulder. Various candies spilled from small cracks in the sides. Dean collected handfuls and stuffed them in Neville's shirt front.

The three boys quickly swept from the hall, afraid they might be mugged.

In the dorm, the large box sat innocently, while Harry and Ron sat on top of it. "We waited for you, Nev, because we're good friends," Ron said seriously, nodding firmly.

Neville approached the box, and Seamus set the one he was carrying down next to it. Harry and Ron stood, and all five boys looked at the boxes.

"So," Neville said, "do we open it?"

"Are you new?" Dean demanded, staring at Neville in disbelief.

"Okay, _how_ do we open it?" Ron asked.

They stared for another moment, before Harry kicked the larger box. He almost regretted it. The box exploded with enough force to send them all backward.

When they all stood, they looked around the room in wonder.

"I ordered a hundred pounds of candy," Harry said slowly.

"He sent a note," Neville said, retrieving it. He handed said note to Harry. "He doubled the order, because he liked your parents. He also said he sent whatever else you ordered."

Harry rummaged through the candies and reached the bottom of the pile before he shouted, "Aha!" and retrieved his hand. He was holding a very large bottle of plain vodka. Smirking, he hid the bottle near his bed.

"What's this?" Ron asked, pointing to the other box. There was a note taped on top, so he tore it off and read it.

When he was done, he handed it to Harry.

_Mr. Longbottom,_

_I have also included a sample of new candies I am going to start selling near Christmas. If you would be so kind, please try them and tell me what you think. I believe I have a winner with the smoking raisins!_

_A. Flume _

"Smoking raisins?"

"What was that, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall demanded. Five heads snapped in the direction of the voice. Their head of house was framed in the doorway, a stern look in her eye.

She examined the candy that was taking over the floor with a disapproving glance. "Um," Ron said, looking around, "Um… Well, you see, we like candy."

"I can see that," McGonagall said. She looked over the boys and gave them each a hard look. Stooping down, she picked up a bag of licorices shaped like Scottish terriers and pocketed the bag. "I suggest you lock your door tonight, boys."

With that, the stern old woman turned and left the dorm.

Neville looked both shocked and relieved.

They spent the rest of the night doing homework and working their way through the pile of candy. By the time they went to sleep, one could hardly tell that any had been eaten.

Harry had a dream about waking up in the morning and his four friends being fat. When he did wake up, he remembered the dream and began laughing hysterically.

"What?" Seeing Ron's sleepy face made the image of the bloated Ron return, and he laughed harder. "Never mind; I don't want to know."

Their life continued like that until Saturday morning. Harry was sleeping in his boxers, as usual, and had kicked the blankets off the bed. Ron was in boxers and an undershirt, and snoring. He had wrapped himself quite securely in his blankets.

A hand on Harry's shoulder A) scared the hell out of him, and B) caused him to leap out of bed yelling and swearing colorfully. Ron sat bolt upright, wand aimed at Harry. "What the hell?" the bleary redhead demanded.

"I don't know what the hell! Who the fuck just touched me?" Harry shouted.

"My money's on Seamus. I always figured him for a pouf," Ron mumbled, half-asleep.

A wand lit between their two beds, and they were met with the image of Albus Dumbledore, fully dressed and stony faced. "Oh…" Harry said.

"I'm going to go throw myself off the North Tower," Ron said, staring at Dumbledore in terror.

Dumbledore looked between them. "Time to get up," he said sharply.

Harry looked at the clock.

_4:02 AM_

Harry looked back at Dumbledore, confused. "You are meeting Aberforth in one hour. Get up. Breakfast awaits you in the Great Hall."

"Yes sir," Harry said. He was still standing on his bed, holding his wand defensively.

"I suggest you get dressed."

"Yes sir."

Dumbledore swept from the room. "Normal people don't wake up at this hour," Ron groaned. "That man is not human!" Ron dropped his head back to his pillow.

The two boys pulled themselves from bed and dressed tiredly. They trudged through the castle to the Great Hall. They sat on the same side, as close to the door as they could so they would not have to move far.

Something pushed them apart and Dumbledore sat down between them. "I haven't seen either of you at a meal recently," the man said. He piled eggs on their plates. Ron, Ron who could eat himself to death and be happy, was not in the mood for eggs at four in the morning.

"Ughhh," Ron said, staring at the eggs.

"Eat, Mr. Weasley. Aberforth might not be the smartest man you'll ever meet, but he will work you to tears. It is in your best interest to eat now."

Harry made a half-hearted attempt to eat eggs and bacon and toast. When they finished, Dumbledore escorted them out of the castle. When they were on the grounds, Ron said, "Um, sir, about that comment I made about Seamus… I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you."

"Why would that offend me, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked without looking at him.

"Uh…" Ron looked across Dumbledore's chest to Harry, who didn't look at either of them. "Well, um, I. . ."

"You and Harry know," the Headmaster said. "About my youth."

"Well, uh, yeah. Grindelwald and all. Just… sorry I said it, sir," Ron said quietly.

"You are forgiven, Ronald. Perhaps you should be careful of what you say in the future. And… I would appreciate a little discretion."

"Of course, sir," Ron said, nodding firmly.

"We're not idiots," Harry added.

Dumbledore was silent for a second before he said, "I am not ashamed. I would just rather it not get around. I have never dated, so the point is rather moot, anyway."

"You really should not have told Harry that," Ron said, rubbing his forehead. "Around the office, he was known as Harry 'Love Connection' Potter. In the last ten years, he caused nineteen marriages."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I doubt that would happen."

"I doubted he could hook Ann 'The Man' Corker up with _anybody_. I lost a hundred galleons on that one. Never doubt Potter's Nuptial Powers. He might have divorced his only wife in a hideous plane-crash of an affair, but he does have a knack for hook-ups."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Also bear in mind he seems to do it on accident."

Shortly after that, they reached the gates. Dumbledore escorted them to the Hogshead and opened the door without a problem. "You are familiar with this pub?"

"Intimately," Harry said.

Aberforth walked in from the back room and looked them over. "Potter and Weasley?" the man asked, looking at the boys. "Could be worse. Could be the Twins. Ready to work, boys?"

Harry and Ron stared at the man that they had long since decided had lost his marbles. Ron's mouth was slightly agape.

"All they have actually eaten in the last two days is candy. Mr. Longbottom received in the vicinity of two hundred pounds of candy from Honeydukes."

"Ambrosius sent that much candy to teenage boys?" Aberforth asked.

"Harry is persuasive," Dumbledore said. He gave Harry a hard look, then looked back at his brother. "Don't let him talk you down. He'll probably try."

Aberforth looked at Harry as well, sizing him up. "He won't."

"Well, I should be off; the school is going to wake up in a few hours." Dumbledore nodded to his brother, then turned to Harry and Ron. He took one of each of their shoulders, and gave both of them his sternest look. "You will behave. You _will not_ enjoy the consequences if you do not." They nodded.

As soon as the Headmaster was gone, Aberforth rounded on the two boys and started in on them. "So, you think it's cute to look up skirts, do you? Well, I'll show you, you little miscreants!" As he spoke, Aberforth moved to the window and peered out. "I'm going to work you until your fingernails bleed… He's gone. It'll take about ten minutes to clean up the backroom. Contrary to what my brother believes, I do know how to use a wand. And… I think you're close enough to Hogwarts that the Trace won't pick up a few spells you two might use."

"Few?" Harry asked. He was bone tired. And he had a headache.

Harry and Ron marched the back room and stood in the center, back to back. With several sweeps of their wands, the room was sparkling, alphabetized, and Aberforth found the bottle opener he'd been looking for.

The three men looked at each other. "What now?" Ron asked.

"I've got beds upstairs. You're welcome to take a nap. I'm going back to bed, actually. I feed the goats at five, then sleep till about noon. You're here until about then, anyway. I heard that Albus, the old codger, has restricted you two to your dorm. That's more'n enough punishment, I think. Goodnight, boys."

Tired, both time-travelers flew up the stairs and found a room. They fought for a second over the bed, then collapsed in it together anyway.

It was hours later that they woke up. Harry's arm was across Ron's face, and that is what woke the redhead. "Gedoffame," Ron growled.

Harry rolled over, but woke up as well. "Whatimezit?" Harry asked.

"Quarter to noon," Ron said when he finally located a clock. "We should get up."

It was a good thing they did. Aberforth was moving up the stairs. He put a finger to his lips and motioned for the boys to hurry up. He pushed them into the back room and said, "Albus is just down the path."

Harry and Ron pretended to clean, and they heard the Headmaster enter. "Ah, good afternoon, Aberforth."

"Ain't noon yet," Aberforth replied. "You want the boys?"

"I do. Would you fetch them for me, please? Have they finished?"

"I'll see," Aberforth said. He stood in the doorway of the back room, so that Albus could see him, and pointed to Ron. "You, cheeky one, move those boxes to that wall."

"I just moved those boxes to _this_ wall," Ron said, shrugging to Harry, perplexed.

Aberforth raised an eyebrow and looked back to his brother. "See what help you sent me?" He looked back to Ron and said, "Move it _again_."

"Fine. Whatever."

Harry and Ron emerged from the backroom to find Dumbledore helping himself to pumpkin juice and a sandwich. Harry could not see where the sandwich came from, so he eyed it, and the man, suspiciously.

"Did they behave?" Albus asked.

"Well enough. Could I have them back tomorrow? I've got the whole back lot to clean out, as well."

The Headmaster eyed Harry and Ron, who were avoiding his gaze. Their reluctance to look at him led him to believe that they had somehow misbehaved. "I think we could spare them another day."

"Whoa man!" Harry said, his eyes sharp. "That wasn't in the deal."

"That's right. I agreed to _one_ day," Ron supplied.

"It is adorable that you think you have a say in the matter," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling. "Alas, you do not."

"Can we go now?" Ron asked, a bit rudely.

"Yes, we should be off," Dumbledore said. "Goodbye, Aberforth."

"See ya around, Albus," the barkeeper said.

Albus walked Harry and Ron back up to the school. "Straight to your dorm, you two," he warned.

"Yes sir," they said. He left them at the entrance hall and swept off to the dungeons.

Harry and Ron spent the rest of the day working out in their dorm, and nibbling on candy. They did not go to lunch, and they did not go to dinner. Concerned, Neville brought them a napkin of chicken and potatoes.

"Thanks, Nev," Ron said, doing sit-up number 412 of the day. They were both determined to get their normal, adult bodies back as soon as they could.

"Hey… do you guys think you could teach me how to. . ." Neville trailed off, blushing crimson.

"Work out?" Harry asked with a friendly smile. "Sure!" They spent the rest of the night teaching Neville how to exercise. He got the hang of it, but wasn't able to do very much before he was exhausted. "Don't worry, Neville. You'll build endurance if you keep it up!"

The next day at the pub, Aberforth told them embarrassing stories of Albus as a kid. Ron roared with laughter when they heard about Little Albus Dumbledore blowing up a table when he was seven and had stolen his father's wand. Harry could just imagine the small, innocently confused face as Dumbledore tried to figure out what went wrong with his spell.

"He was always off doing something," Aberforth recalled. "Exploring, learning. He wasn't the type to sit around." When they left, Aberforth slid a small flask into Harry's pocket.

Harry's time at Hogwarts was just as hard as he remembered it from the first time he had gone through fourth year. It seemed like the whole school hated him. Harry had done the honorable thing and told Cedric about the dragons, but even with that…. Cedric of this time seemed a little colder toward Harry than the first time.

Then Harry remembered that he and Ron had hid under the _Ravenclaw_ table their second day back. Ron had made that comment about panties. Cho had been in that area.

Right. It made more sense, looking at it like that.

Harry, however, did not remember dodging curses in the halls the first time. Except Malfoy and his lot, but they hardly counted for anything.

Harry took a stinging hex to the left arm that actually welted. By the end of the day, he could hardly move his arm. He didn't go to the hospital wing, and he pretty much ignored it in general. By breakfast the next morning, most of his upper arm was swollen. He continued to ignore it, until Neville noticed.

"Hey, hey Harry, what's wrong with your arm?" he asked.

"Nothing," Harry replied instantly, but with a cool tone.

"Yes there is. Your arm is swollen, Harry. What happened?"

By that time, Hermione had taken notice. She had mostly ignored her two best friends, but was still concerned about their safety.

"Harry, you need to see Madam Pomfrey," she said, in full authoritative mode.

"No I don't. I'm fine," Harry said firmly.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's voice said from behind him, "you would say 'I'm fine', even if you were _on fire_. If your arm is hurt, you need to go to the infirmary."

"I am fine," Harry repeated. "Absolutely- Ow, _goddamnit_!"

"Fine, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked. He had poked Harry's arm. "Let's go." He took Harry to the infirmary, and continuously tried to start a conversation. He finally settled on asking, "Why did you not go to the infirmary when you were hexed, Harry?"

Harry coldly replied, "Didn't know I was allowed. It wasn't on your list of approved places."

Dumbledore stopped and grabbed Harry's uninjured arm to force the teen to face him. They were stopped in a hallway in front of a painting of fifteenth century dragon taming.

"Do you truly think I would be upset with you if you took yourself to the infirmary? If you actually took a moment to take care of yourself? Do I seem like a monster to you?" Dumbledore asked. Harry was staring at the painting of dragons, thinking of the First Task. "Look at me, Harry. What would make you think that?"

"Listen, don't worry about it!" Harry said. "I'm fine." Harry turned to continue to the hospital wing, but Dumbledore had an iron grasp of his upper arm, and did not let go.

"Are you okay, Harry? Truly? Look at me, Harry, and answer my question. My eyes are up here, young man."

Harry looked Dumbledore in the eye, but blocked all emotion. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Why are you acting like this?"

"What?" Harry demanded. "Do you know what this is like for me? I have all of the knowledge and experience of a fifty-eight year old Auror, Hit Wizard, and Executioner! But I have the emotional and hormonal control of a fourteen year old! I could _literally_ blow one of these kids to pieces, so that there would be no way to identify a body. I'm doing my best to stay in control, damn it, but finding out how bad my arm is might piss me off. I wasn't concerned, if it were Dark magic, I would know. If it were deadly, I would know. It's just a little painful, and I can live with that, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked at him for several long moments. "I had not considered that you would be dealing with teenaged hormones, Harry. And Ron as well, I assume. Good lord, puberty is hard enough the first time. Listen to me, Harry. You must remain in control of your magic. I would have a hell of a time explaining to the Ministry that you blew up a fellow student."

Harry looked at him, and then continued to the Hospital wing. "Remove your shirt," Madam Pomfrey said professionally when everything was explained to her.

Harry unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the bed beside him. Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster both stared at his arm. "Harry, please look at your arm," the Headmaster asked. Anybody that heard it knew it was not a request.

Doing so, Harry saw that his arm, from the elbow to the shoulder, was swollen and purple. "That's a nifty color," he said.

"Mr. Potter, another two days, and you might have lost the arm. How would you have felt then?" the matron asked.

Harry considered the question for a moment. He lifted his arm and looked at it. "About ten pounds lighter, I think."

"Not funny," Pomfrey said.

"Really? Because I really had to think of that one," Harry said.

Dumbledore looked ready to quit his job right there. Harry knew it wouldn't be the last time.

Harry's arm was mended, but he was made to stay the night in the Hospital wing. He tried everything he could think of to escape, but it seemed that Dumbledore had thought of everything and more to keep him in the infirmary. Harry would have to get him back somehow.

Dumbledore was very curious to know who had cursed him, but Harry honestly could not say who had stooped so low. Harry was quite upset, though; move the wand tip over a few inches, and the curse would have hit his _right _arm.

To Harry, losing his _right _arm would mean a very boring life.

He caught the Snitch with his right arm, of course.

Harry was released from the Hospital Wing late the next afternoon, after his arm had been checked and rechecked and triple checked by Madam Pomfrey. Fearing for his sanity, Harry sprinted to the Gryffindor dorms like a marathon runner across the finish line.

Harry sat with Ron in the dormitory as the other boys were down in the common room. "So, what's the plan?" Ron asked.

"Well, McLaggen must die, of course," replied Harry. He glanced about and then added. "Metaphorically, I mean. It wouldn't do to actually kill him. And, I have to get Dumbledore back for trapping me in the infirmary." Harry wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to have put spying charms in the dorm. Harry made a mental note to check for those the next morning.

"Right. How do we get him, anyway? Fred and George haven't been able to do it since they've been in school. Trust me, they tried."

"Easy. We do something super cool, then frame the Twins. They'll love the glory, and we won't get in trouble."

"Win-win."

"Win-win," Harry agreed.

"Let me get this straight, Albus," Minerva said as she sat with the Headmaster in his sitting room. Albus felt suspiciously like a first year about to be reprimanded by his Head of House. They were in front of the fire, sipping tea and discussing recent events. "You sent two impulsive _alcoholics _to a _pub _as punishment? A pub, might I add, run by Aberforth Dumbledore?"

Albus sat quietly for a moment, until a sheepish feeling crept up on him. "In hindsight, I suppose, that was not the best idea." Definitely felt like a first year, then.

"For a man rumored to be exceptionally bright, you're downright dim sometimes, Albus."


	4. In All The Right Ways

**Chapter 4:**  
**In All The Right Ways**

The next several days were uncomfortable for Harry. Hufflepuffs especially were acting vindictive. It was weird for him to see people like Hannah Abbot giving him dirty looks. Glares just didn't fit little Puffs. In fact, Harry was so maligned that he was a little glad he was confined to his dorm. That way, nobody knew he was hiding. Sure, he could take on anybody at the school, but explaining to Aurors why he reduced a Hufflepuff to tears would not have been fun for him.

All too soon came the day. The dreaded day. Harry had nearly forgotten what was coming. The first task. But before that. . .

Rita Skeeter.

Harry remembered what she had said about Dumbledore after the man died. She just didn't have the guts to say it while the Headmaster was alive.

That bitch.

Harry was dragged out of potions class, just about kicking and screaming. "But she's _evil_!" Harry yelled as Snape closed the door in his face. The cantankerous old man had the gall to smirk at him as the door snapped shut.

Everybody seemed to be waiting on Harry by the time he entered the room. The Weighing of the Wands was explained in little detail to the Champions, and Rita Skeeter herself appeared. She asked to speak to Harry right off the bat, and Bagman agreed, but turned to Harry.

"That is— if Harry has no objection?"

"I certainly do!" Harry said. "I'll go no where near that plastic haired bitch!" Harry declared, loudly. This was one person Harry could not be nice to. Malfoy? Yes. Ginny? Yes. Skeeter?

Only if Snape dressed in a poodle skirt and sang "_Summer Nights_" in front of the whole school.

Never.

Ever.

Not in a millions years.

"And you!" Harry snapped, pointing to the somewhat lecherous cameraman, who had been staring at Fleur's chest. "Come _near _me with that camera, and I'll shove it so far up your ass you'll be taking pictures out your nose when you blink. I think I have been more than clear, Mr. Bagman," Harry said, suddenly calm when he spoke to the ex-Beater.

"I see…" Bagman said, a bit alarmed. "I'll go tell the judges that you're ready."

It went much the same as Harry remembered, until it was his turn. He stood, and with great flourish said, "Nobody touches my wand." He turned to Fleur and said, "Except you. You can touch my wand all you like."

Madam Maxime looked ready to deck him, but he turned back to Ollivander before she could say anything. "Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, "I need to examine your wand."

"Examine with your eyes, not your hands," Harry said firmly.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, a touch of uncharacteristic steel in his voice, "hand over your wand."

Harry did as the Headmaster ordered, barely resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the man. As soon as the wand was in Ollivander's hand, the wandmaker let out a hiss and dropped the wand. Harry held out his hand, and much like a broom, the wand snapped to his palm.

"Why don't you just through it out the window, as well?" Harry asked coldly. He held the wand to his chest and stroked it as if it were a small child.

"Mr. Potter, you should have told me you put anti-theft charms on your wand. Why did you do that?" Ollivander asked.

"Last time someone got their grubby hands on _my_ wand, the man that betrayed my parents to their death was able to escape to safety and avoid the Dementor's Kiss that he so richly deserves."

Well, it was almost true… a little. Harry had been wandless. Wormtail had escaped.

That had just been forty-five years previously, and in those intervening years, Harry had learned more about wand-safety.

"Will you let me examine it, please?" Ollivander asked.

Harry stared at him a moment. "If I can trust you not to _drop_ it again."

He waved his hand over the wand and handed it to the wandmaker. "I remember this wand quite well. Holly and phoenix feather. In excellent condition, I might add. This is quite the wand."

In Harry's lifetime, his wand had broken once. It had taken the Elder Wand to repair it. With a jolt, Harry realized the Elder Wand was in the room with him. His eyes, very much against his will, darted to Dumbledore, who was seated with the other judges. Buried somewhere in the extravagant robes of the Headmaster was one of the Deathly Hallows. Harry had another, in his dorm room.

The third was one of Voldemort's horcruxes, and piece of his soul safely trapped in an otherwise innocuous object.

The harsh reminder of the Deathly Hallows and the Horcruxes left a cold feeling in Harry's spine.

"I hear you have performed some truly exceptional magic with this wand, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "I don't suppose anything would be wrong with it now." Ollivander gave it a flourish and said a spell, but nothing happened. "But I suppose I've been wrong before?"

"Whoops, forgot about that one. Only I can touch the wand, or cast spells with it at all. You should see what happens to anybody that tries to take it from me by force," Harry said with a malevolent grin as he waved his hand over the wand.

"Very protective, I see," Ollivander said with a happy sparkle in his eyes.

"That wand is irreplaceable," Harry said with no hesitation.

"Oh, I think I could find you another-"

"My wand," Harry said like a possessive four-year-old. "That wand has saved my life, Mr. Ollivander. More than once. And, like you said, the phoenix that gave the feather for that wand hasn't given any more."

"No, no he hasn't. Stubborn little phoenix, he is. Bit pompous too, might I add. Bit like his companion," Ollivander said.

Both men could feel Dumbledore's eyes on them. The Headmaster was giving them a stern look, a little insulted. "A bit?" Harry asked. "Have you met the man?"

"True," Ollivander agreed.

"Is the wand acceptable, Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore asked, somewhat sharply.

Ollivander slowly turned to the Headmaster with his characteristic look. "Please, Headmaster, do not rush me. Wands are very delicate." Dumbledore seemed to be about a second away from rolling his eyes. "If you are so impatient, you should have been there when I first tried to match Mr. Potter with a wand. He went through more than four dozen. I'm glad I remembered I had this wand. My shop was in shambles by the time he left."

"You could have picked the first one right away," Harry said with a smirk.

"I had hoped… alas, never mind." Ollivander transfigured a table into a piglet and back. "It's in perfect working order, then."

Dumbledore excused the Champions, but Bagman stopped them for photos. Harry made it to the door before Dumbledore said, "Harry, that means you as well."

Harry turned back and answered, "I've already explained to the photographer what will happen if he tries to take a picture of me. I don't do free interviews, and I do not do free photos."

Without another word, Harry swept from the room and went down to dinner.

The next two weeks consisted of hurled insults and imprisonment. Harry and Ron were not allowed to go to Hogsmeade the weekend before the task, but Harry used Hedwig to send orders into town.

His orders arrived on Monday, and Harry prepared everything he needed.

* * *

The morning of the First Task dawned early for Harry. He woke two hours before breakfast and started running back and forth in the dorm room to burn off nervous energy. Harry realized that the last time he had been that nervous was hi wedding. But Arthur Weasley had talked to him. The talk consisted of the Weasley Patriarch telling him that if he continued to run, A) people might think he was running _away_, and B) he would smell funny at the altar.

By breakfast, Harry felt quite calm. He was, in fact, unsure why he felt so anxious; he had done the dragon taming before. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table talking to Ron. They went to their morning classes as usual, though people stared at Harry more than they usually did, which was saying something.

Ron lightened the mood by exclaiming, often, that people must be staring at him for his debonair looks and irresistible charm. Fred and George overheard, and replied that people were staring at the goon following Harry Potter around.

At the end of lunch, McGonagall escorted Harry to the Champions tent, where Bagman met him and the other Champions inside. Right before she walked away, McGonagall wished him luck. It was out of character enough to make Harry pause and blink.

Harry entered the tent and was met with Fleur, Cedric, Krum, and Bagman. The three other Champions gave him looks of varied distain or complete disinterest.

Bagman made a speech vary similar to what Harry remembered. After several moments, when the crowd had gathered in the main tent, Bagman offered a purple bag to Fleur. She withdrew a Welsh Green dragon miniature. Viktor and Cedric also drew theirs, and then it was Harry's turn. He wondered why he had once again drawn the Hungarian Horntail. Perhaps an odd quirk of fate.

Harry spent the next hour staring at the side of the tent. When it was Cedric's turns, the cheers he received were drowned out by the Gryffindors singing, "_Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die_," in deep, reverberating voices. Harry would have to remember to thank Ron, Fred, and George.

All too soon, it was Harry's turn. Drawing in a deep breath, Harry stepped into the main tent. The Gryffindor cheers were masked by the Hufflepuff's, Ravenclaw's and Slytherin's booing. Quite calm, Harry stood just inside the tent and held out his wand.

After a moment, he dropped his arm back to his side. He stared at the dragon that was staring back at him. He wasn't near enough to the eggs to pose a threat, so the dragon just watched him carefully.

People started to laugh as Harry continued to stand there, staring at the dragon. He figured he must look fairly incompetent.

A minute later, though, his Firebolt appeared by him, hovering at waist height, and his small duffel bag was next to it.

Harry had been ecstatic to see his Firebolt, which he had lost during the tragic flight from Privet Drive to the Burrow, where he had also lost Hedwig, George lost his ear, and Moody lost his life.

But Harry had not gotten a chance to ride his Firebolt since his return to childhood. And, he had to make sure he remembered what the Firebolt felt like to ride. It had been forty years since he had ridden this broom, but it was supposed to have been mere months.

With confidence, Harry mounted the broom and took off. He was very careful of the dragon's tail, making sure not to hurt his shoulder again. With dramatic sweeps and sharp turns, Harry certainly won the respect of Ludo Bagman, who was commentating.

"Harry Potter can _fly_!" Bagman announced. "In all my years, I have never seen such talent!"

Harry flew continuously around the dragon's head, annoying her. She took quite a few swipes at him with her tail, but each time Harry _just_ danced out of her way. This annoyed her even more.

With a wide sweep, Harry made a darting move that the dragon would interpret as threatening to her eggs. She reared back and snapped her jaw, and Harry gracefully avoided the flames she sent at him.

When he was twenty-six, Harry and several other Aurors, including Ron, had been asked to capture a dragon that had gotten loose from a preserve, and secure the beast.

Their job had not been to transport it in any way, just secure it while they waited for the Department of Control of Magical Creatures. They just had to subdue the dragon.

They used synchronized broom formations and managed to tie the beast up with only minor injuries sustained by the Aurors.

Harry knew from experience that a dragon could be made dizzy. He turned and rolled and dove and dropped and continued to fly in circles around her head.

Then Harry remembered that Viktor had caused his dragon, the first time, to smash some of the eggs, and had been docked points.

Harry then changed tactics. He decided to get the dragon away from the eggs. His great escape from Gringotts had been on the back of a dragon; one that had been stuck underground in a small, hot, humid tunnel. Upon finding itself free, the first thing the dragon did was try to find cooler air. Dragons could withstand incredibly high temperatures, but did not like to endure heat very long.

Cold-blooded by nature, dragons were also unable to withstand cold as well as they can withstand heat.

Harry had to make a split second decision on whether to freeze the dragon, or burn it. It was chilly outside to begin with. He did not know if the dragon would be quick to escape freezing temperatures for cold temperatures, but he knew it would escape hot temperatures for cold temperatures.

Having made up his mind, Harry continued circling the dragon with his wand out, muttering a high-intensity heating charm. The dragon became fiercer, trying harder to set him on fire or tear him to shreds with her tail; she didn't seem picky.

After he was sure the air right around the dragon was well over comfortable levels, Harry flew straight into the air.

With a mighty roar, the dragon spread her wings and with two powerful beats, had lifted off the ground. Her chains stopped her only for a moment before she broke free and chased Harry around the tent. Students watching screamed in terror as the dragon got loose.

The dragon tamers were suddenly very, very worried. They could not interfere with the task unless someone was in mortal peril. However, one could contest that a dragon on a rampage put many people in mortal peril.

Charlie Weasley looked to Albus Dumbledore, hoping that the Headmaster would give him the sign to contain the dragon. Inexplicably, the older man shook his head. Charlie thought his eyes might explode out of their sockets, his eyes went so wide in that moment. What was the old man thinking? Harry was just a kid!

But when Charlie looked back to Harry, the young Seeker did not seem all that worried.

At all.

In fact, the kid was smiling. Charlie was a bit worried that there was something wrong with him; he was being chased by an exceptionally angry mother dragon, and he was trying to steal one of her eggs. What was there to smile about?

The kid was good, though. He was spinning the dragon in circles as they flew back and forth across the arena. Eventually, the dragon would get dizzy and probably crash. And the dragon was overheated, which would enrage it, but also make it act irrationally.

Such as spinning in circles while flying.

Harry made just one more pass across the arena before he did something that was both insane, and would be written about in history books. As he flew past the dragon, he leapt from his broom and landed on the dragon's back. The teen had put himself in exceptional danger due to the horned tail, but he actually seemed to have a plan.

As Harry rode on the dragon's back, the dragon attempted to snap at him with her mighty jaw, and to slash him with her tail. Harry avoided both weapons, and continued to use his wand to cast intense heating charms. The dragon roared its anger and frustration. No matter what she did, though, she could not buck the annoying little human.

Harry jammed his hand into his small duffle bag and withdrew a buck knife. Unfolding it and locking it into place, Harry worked meticulously to dig a scale out of her back. When he had his scale, his leapt from the dragon and began falling back to earth. His broom, which had been lying on the ground where it dropped, shot up to meet him. It was not the most comfortable reunion, but it worked.

Harry led the dragon on another chase around the pitch. He started flying in loops again, once more making the dragon angry and dizzy.

After several minutes, the dragon crashed into the ground with a thunderous sound. The boy then wrapped the dragon in her own chains and swooped off to collect the golden egg.

The Boy-Who-Lived disappeared into another tent, and Charlie saw his younger brother running off after him. It had been a huge surprise to the family when their youngest, Little Ronnie, had made friends with Harry Potter. Out of all of the people at Hogwarts that Harry could have befriended, he chose one of the poorest kids. Molly and Arthur were absolutely thrilled.

Charlie, at first, had been concerned. The Potter kid was rich and famous, and he worried that Ron would be hurt either by Potter's ego or wealth or fame. He was more than surprised, then when he heard from his parents the summer after Ron finished first year that Harry was a wonderful, generous, humble little boy. He also heard that Ron, Fred, and George had stolen their father's flying car to save Harry from his relatives. Charlie had chuckled, amused by the dramatic generalizations of his kid brothers.

As his parents rushed to explain, though, Harry had been locked in his room with bars put on the window. Charlie quickly realized that 'saved' was the appropriate word. He felt terrible for the little boy; parentless and unloved by his only living relatives.

When Harry fearlessly faced down a basilisk and Voldemort to save Ginny's life, Charlie knew that the boy was okay in his book. Ginny was something of a princess in their family; the first girl to be born into the Weasley family for generations. All of the Weasley boys were fiercely protective of her, their baby sister. And because Harry had saved her, he was okay.

Charlie made a mental note to get to know Harry. Everyone in the family that had ever spent any time with him said he was a really good guy. Fred and George had told him that they had even _given_ Harry their secret method of getting around the castle without getting caught. To anyone that knew the twins, that was a big deal.

The dragon was efficiently taken care of, and Charlie reported to Dumbledore that neither the eggs nor the dragon were harmed in any way.

Harry and Ron appeared at the opening of the tent, and Harry looked to the judges while Ron whispered to him.

Madam Maxime gave Harry a nine. Crouch gave Harry a ten. Dumbledore gave Harry a ten. Bagman gave Harry a ten. Karkaroff gave Harry a seven.

Viktor Krum watched the judges give Potter his score. He had watched the young boy compete with mild interest… until Potter mounted his broom. Viktor found himself impressed with the boy's flying skills. He wondered if the kid would be against a Seeker's Duel.

The scores impressed Viktor as well, and Potter deserved them. When Karkaroff put up a seven, Viktor was irritated. When the crowd dispersed, Viktor approached Karkaroff, and called him out on his biased judging.

"Viktor," Karkaroff said in a patronizing tone, "I am keeping things interesting. If Potter gets too far ahead of the pack, where would the fun be?"

"Potter vos good out there. He deserves high scores. I may not like him; he vos mean to Hermy-oh-ninny, but that does not mean I vant him unfairly treated. If I vin this competition, I vant to know I did it myself."

Karkaroff looked him over for a moment. "For you Viktor, I will score fairly," the man conceded.

"Thank you, Highmaster," Viktor said with a small smile and a bow.

"Now, Viktor, who is Hermy-oh-ninny?"

They walked off together, leaving someone behind to ponder.

Hermione had been walking by when she head Viktor Krum accuse Karkaroff of unfairly judging Harry. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she couldn't help it. She stopped and listened from the other side of a tall bush. When she heard her name mentioned, Hermione almost choked. What was a world class Quidditch player doing thinking about her?

When the two Durmstrang men walked off, Hermione was left to wonder about Harry. She had screamed when the dragon got loose. It had been horrifying. Then, she cheered when Harry got the egg. She almost cried when Harry and Ron walked by without noticing her.

Mind made up, she went and sought her two best friends.

She found them in their dorm. Without knocking, she took a determined step in and said, "I thought you could come out today?" One part of her mind thought they would be mad at her, because she was the reason they were in trouble in the first place; another part of her mind reminded her that they had made their own decisions and would have to live with the consequences.

Harry and Ron looked at her for a moment, with blank faces. Several more moments passed, where Harry opened a Cauldron Cake and Ron chewed on a Licorice Wand without taking their eyes off of her. Harry was on his bed, and Ron was on his own.

"We're hiding," Harry said finally. He tossed her a sugar-free cream puff, and continued his conversation with Ron. "So, ultimately, Romeo _and_ Juliet died."

Ron shook his head, sighing, "I just don't know what it is with people and love. They go crazy."

"Shakespeare?" Hermione asked, dumbfounded. "You've been up here for three weeks discussing _Shakespeare_?"

They looked at her again, smiling. Harry said, "Ah, the failings of traditional wizard education. I've been explaining muggle literature to him, and he has been telling me of wizard literature. What the oaf knows of it, at least." Ron hit Harry with a pillow. Hermione tentatively sat at the foot of Harry's bed, looking between them. "Look, Hermione, we're sorry about what we did to you in the Great Hall."

"Yeah, Hermione," Ron added, "we were sort of jerks to you."

"Dumbledore explained that it is our 'rampant hormones'," said Harry.

"But he threatened to grab a hose next time our 'rampant hormones' got out of control," Ron said with a small laugh.

Hermione had no way to verify what, exactly, the Headmaster said or did not say. But they hoped they made her feel better.

"Well, it was sort of funny," Hermione said. Harry held out his hand to her.

"Friends?" She shook it with a laugh.

"Friends!"

"Hey, listen Hermione," Ron said, clearing his throat. "When we were talking to the Headmaster's brother a few weeks ago, he let slip that there was going to be a, well, you know, a ball on Christmas. I was wondering if you would, um, if you want to, I mean, if you would…"

Harry watched his friend meticulously stumble over his words. He had told Ron to fumble about like a baboon, so Hermione would not become any more suspicious than she was. But the poor girl looked ready to explode with anticipation.

"What I mean to say," Ron continued, and he took a huge breath, "is _want to go to the ball with me_?" Ron closed his eyes and nearly-grimaced.

Hermione squealed and hugged him. "Yes!" she said. "I can't wait to tell-"

"Shhh!" Harry said. "Nobody else could know. It's a huge secret, or something. Anyway, it'll be announced later. You can't tell anybody, though." Harry nodded, hoping she understood.

She nodded with him. "Oh. Okay." Hermione shrugged, still smiling. "I'm so excited! I was wondering what the dress robes were for. Who are you going to ask, Harry?"

"You'll see."

"Everybody will see," Ron said with a smirk.

* * *

Dumbledore announced the Yule Ball at dinner one night, contrary to how Harry remembered it happening the first time. Not many of the boys were excited, but most of the girls seemed more than happy.

Harry stood and began walking from the hall. "Oh, Eloise, I hate to be so forward, but you're going to the ball with me. Anything you need for the dance… charge it to my Gringott's account. The number is on the thirty-second page of your transfiguration book."

He walked out the door without looking back. The stunned fourth-year Ravenclaw looked around, blushing deeply at the sudden attention. "Is he having me on?" she asked quietly, looking to Ron.

"Harry? Nope. He and I have been discussing our date options for a week. He doesn't dress up, by the way. He'll show up in jeans and a t-shirt that might even be clean. He's also serious about the money. Use it."

Harry was walking through the school, and all he heard people talking about was the Yule Ball. Rumors were flying wildly around the castle, becoming more and more outlandish with each retelling. Harry had a nagging suspicion that Ron was getting his kicks by starting most of the rumors.

Well, two could play that game.

Harry decided to have some fun of his own.

"_What_ is a Weird Sister?" Harry loudly demanded as he entered the Great Hall. Most people in the room stopped talking to stare at him in confusion.

"You mean… the band?" Parvati Patil asked. She seemed unsure of Harry's mental stability. "They're the most popular band in the world."

"Oh, as if. To make that comparison, you have to rule out AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, the Beatles, and dozens of others."

"Um, who?" Parvati asked. Harry deeply, desperately hoped she was being ignorant on purpose, perhaps to impress someone.

"You… you did not just. . . Come on… Back in Black? Highway to Hell? Hell's Bells? It's a Long Way to the Top? Kill 'em All? Master of Puppets? Disposable Heroes? Yellow Submarine?" Harry fished, becoming more depressed as the blank look did not leave her face.

Colin Creevey announced, "I love the Beatles. And Pink Floyd."

Harry pointed to him. "We don't need no education."

"We don't need no thought control. No dark sarcasm in the classroom. Teachers leave them kids alone."

"Yes!" Harry said, throwing his arms into the air. "Wizards aren't completely hopeless! Score."

He continued into the hall with a smirk. "_You_ are completely hopeless," Parvati said. "You're a wizard now; you should act like it."

"Am I not?" Harry asked innocently as he walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

"No!" Parvati exclaimed. "You could at least _try_ to fit in! Try some wizard fashion, instead of muggle clothes."

"Wizard fashion, as you put it, is stuck in the nineteenth century. Dumbledore is completely thrilled; he hasn't had to buy new clothes since eighteen-ninety-five."

Dumbledore, who had just entered the hall, said, "I have purchased clothing since I was fourteen, Mr. Potter. I was nine inches shorter then, you know."

"I'm making a point. High collars and lace and trim and men in dresses? That last bit is only okay in Scotland."

"We are in Scotland," McGonagall said.

"I'm making a point. Get with the times. Robes are outdated, uncomfortable, and ridiculous."

"You sound just like your mother," Dumbledore and McGonagall said at the same time.

"Hmm," Harry said as he grabbed an apple and began walking out the hall. "Great minds think alike."

"You aren't even close to being on par with your mother's mind," Snape said coldly.

"Careful, Professor, you're dangerously close to complimenting a member of my family… and a muggle-born at that. And we all know how you feel about… muggle-borns."

"You little snot!" Harry didn't hear any more, having left the hall. He made his way up to his dorm to get his transfiguration book.

* * *

Sirius must have sent him three hundred letters in the two weeks before the ball. He demanded to know every little detail about everything, from what Harry was wearing to if Harry knew contraceptive spells.

Harry was pleased to hear, through a long grapevine of girls, that Eloise had taken his advice and was using his bank account to prepare for the ball. Ron, Harry, and Ginny had worked hard to insure that everything would turn out as planned.

Neville had been surprised when Ginny had demanded that he take her to the ball, but pleased he had a date nonetheless. At least he would not be going stag, as Dean planned to do. He claimed it was so he would not be tied to one girl all night.

Hermione ran into a dilemma when Viktor Krum asked her to the Ball one day in the library. She was just opening her mouth to politely decline when Ron swooped in an snatched her away, earning a glare from Viktor.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione asked as he rushed her behind a bookshelf.

"Hermione, I want you to go with Viktor," Ron said quietly. "I think you'll have fun with him. Not that I don't want to go with you, but you and I can dance any time. He's an International Quidditch Player, Hermione! Try something new. I'll ask somebody else. That is, if you want to go with him," Ron said, giving her a warm look.

Hermione was not used to a kind, considerate Ron. It freaked her out a bit, in fact.

"You really wouldn't mind?" she asked, unsure. "I mean, it would be interesting…"

"No, go for it!" Ron said with a smile. "Save me a dance?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermione said, giving him one last look before she went to accept Viktor's offer.

Ran had asked a rather unknown Ravenclaw third year named Luna Lovegood. Neville, along with everyone else, wondered where that one had come from, but he knew it wasn't his business.

* * *

Albus stood waiting for the students to enter the Great Hall for the Yule Ball. He was wearing resplendent silver robes of Minerva's choosing. He had been partial to the teal ones, but his Deputy had flatly refused.

All of the attending students filled the hall, minus the Champions and their partners. Once they all entered, the Champions did so. Miss Granger looked absolutely stunning, and Viktor looked bashfully proud. Mr. Davies did not take his eyes off of Miss Delacour once. Mr. Diggory and Miss Chang made a stunning couple.

Albus' eyes landed on Harry and Eloise. It was years of practice that kept his jaw from dropping in shock. Miss Midgen looked positively stunning. Her acne was gone and her hair was pulled up. She was in a _very_ expensive muggle dress, and her makeup was done tastefully and quite well.

The entirety of the gathered Hogwarts inhabitants were staring at her, jaws gaping. Eloise gave a small smile, very much aware of how good she looked. She seemed just a wee bit smug.

Harry, on the other hand, was dressed in a black tuxedo. He looked quite handsome, in fact.

Dinner began, and Albus told Igor the story of his morning trip to the bathroom he had trouble locating ever again. He then listened to Harry talk to Percy Weasley.

"So, you're Crouch's assistant now? Good for you, Percy. I knew you would go far. To have such a job, not even a year out of Hogwarts? My, my. You'll be Minister of Magic by the time I leave this place. Put in a good word for me with the Aurors, will you?"

"You wish to be an Auror?" Percy asked, his ears coloring red at the compliments.

Harry smiled warmly. "Oh, no, no. You've probably noticed I'm not very good at following rules," Harry said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I think professional Quidditch would suit me much better."

"Then why would I need to put in a good word for you with the Aurors?" the humorless Percy asked.

"So they're not too harsh when I get too rowdy at the pub."

"I see."

Dinner was over shortly after that. The Weird Sisters took the stage then, and the Champions stood to open the dance. Harry surprised everyone with his dancing ability. He was graceful and elegant.

When the song finished, the Weird Sister's lead singer stepped forward and said, "Harry Potter! I hear you have a problem with our music? You think muggles are better?"

"Damn straight!" Harry called.

"My band mates and I have a challenge for you. We'll play five songs, then _you_ play five songs, and we'll see who the crowd likes more. Sound good?"

"I could do that." Harry sent a Patronus out the door, and most people watched in awe as it gracefully strode passed. "Just need to alert my band mates."

The Weird Sisters played five more songs, and Harry knew he had it in the bag. Really, 'shake your body like a hairy troll'? 'Spin around like a crazy elf'? And Harry had never, ever seen a unicorn 'boogie down'.

Harry turned to his date, and with a very charming smile, snatched the collar of Neville's dress robes. He dragged him over and said, "My dear Neville, will you please accompany my date? I would hate to leave her without a dance partner."

"I… but, Ginny," Neville stammered, blushing.

"Don't worry, Nev! I'll go dance with Dean; he showed up stag!" Ginny said quickly, and scarpered after kissing Neville's cheek. Neville turned to Harry, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You engineered this," he said.

Harry smirked. "Moi? Never. Eloise, is that okay with you?"

Eloise, however, barely paid any attention to Harry. She took Neville's hand and dragged him to the dance floor. She had been flabbergasted when Harry had asked her to the ball. He was the most famous person in the school; any girl would go out with him. She had hoped Neville would ask her, but she found out that Ginny Weasley had gotten to him the night the ball had been announced.

It was all clear to her now, though. Eloise knew that Neville was shy, and that she was pathologically introverted as well. Neither of them would ever have asked someone out. Harry, Ginny, and even Dean Thomas had plotted to get them together. Dean was a very handsome boy, and the odds of him not being able to get a date were next to none. He was quite charming.

She would have to thank the three of them later.

The lead singer invited Harry on stage, and then cleared his band away. Harry easily moved to center stage, smirking. "Well, hello there, dears. My name is Harry Potter, and I am here to prove that muggle music is better than whatever it is I just listened to. To help me with this, me and some of my socially awkward friends will perform five of my favorite songs. That said, my friends!"

Harry waved a hand in the general direction of behind him. Four large figures in black robes and masks appeared behind him. Many people in the crowd gasped and jumped. "Mr. Potter!" McGonagall snapped. Harry ignored her.

"Did I forget to mention that my band is called 'Harry Potter and the Minions of Evil'? Damn, every time. Oh well. I see introductions are in order. On drums, Minion One. On lead guitar, Minion Two. On Bass, Minion Three. On guitar, Minion Four. Now, a Mr. Padfoot has requested this first song, and asked that it be dedicated to Mr. Prongs. Here goes."

The first song was about a fallen soldier, and a letter he sent home to his family. The song came to a close with applause. "Mr. Moony has asked that this next song be dedicated to Mr. Wormtail." The next song was about trust and betrayal. It was a song with a quick beat and somewhat dirty words, so the crowd liked it. "And Mr. Padfoot has asked that this song be dedicated to Mr. Moony." Harry sang a song about a werewolf setting out to murder people. "And Mr. Mooney has asked for this song, for Mr. Padfoot." The next song was about refusing to grow up. "Mr. Mooney and Mr. Padfoot have both requested that this song be sung for Mr. Prong's wife." The fifth song was about love, and humility, and appreciating small things. It was a slower song that the rest, so the many couples on the dance floor got close and danced slow.

When the song finished, the applause was immense. "Encore!" someone yelled. Harry looked to the lead singer of the Weird Sisters, who gave him a 'go ahead' motion. "Well then, Mr. Padfoot, Mr. Prongs, and Mr. Moony would like this song dedicated to a man who shall be referred to as Snivellus." The last song was somewhat dark, with the theme being about getting back at bullies, and violence.

Harry was an avid entertainer. He had run charity auctions and events and balls and carnivals and much more. He knew when a crowd was enjoying something. And enjoying it they were.

After the song, the Weird Sister clambered back on stage and shook Harry's hand. "But, who are they?" Stubby asked, indicating the masked men.

Harry looked at the four cloaked men behind him and said.

"Moony," he said. The friendly face of Remus Lupin appeared from behind one of the masks. "Wormtail." Peter Pettigrew's found face was next to be unmasked. "Prongs." The smirking face of James Potter drew gasps. "And Padfoot." The reaction Sirius Black got was such that Stubby actually stumbled back.

"You aren't… you're not really…" the famous musician stuttered. "What the hell!"

"See, they always get this reaction. It is SO hard to take them out in public, I tell you."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, "you have some explaining to do."

"_LUCY_!" Sirius and James yelled in a Cuban accent.

Remus looked at his watch. "Well, look at the time. We really must be going. It was fantastic being back. This way, boys." Remus began speed-walking from the hall. Sirius jumped on his back with a finger pointed straight ahead of them.

"To the border, Moony!" he shouted. As they walked, Peter began to change. His skin bubbled grotesquely, and his limbs began to lengthen. His hair turned red. By the time he reached the door, Bill Weasley was fully exposed, with Charlie Weasley stuck halfway between James Potter and himself. Remus turned around just in time for Sirius to point at Snape and yell, "See ya later, Snivellus! It's been one smashing good night! Too bad you're too much of a wanker to have fun!" His face began to bubble as they exited, revealing to everyone that it was not, in fact, Sirius Black, but someone polyjuiced to look like him.

Somewhere in the back of the room, someone began clapping. Someone else shouted, "Whoever that was is my hero for insulting Snape!" Cheering erupted.

The Weird Sisters quickly began their next song before things got out of hand. They made sure it was a slow one, to calm people down. Harry danced with several girls from all three schools. He then dragged Madam Pomfrey onto the dance floor, and she turned out to be a great dancer.

Harry took a break from the ball and stepped outside. The fresh air felt good after dancing in the stuffy hall. He walked down the deserted path for a bit, and nearly jumped when he heard gravel crunch behind him. He turned and saw Brandon Johnson behind him. Brandon was a fifth year Ravenclaw, if Harry remembered correctly. He had gone on to make a pretty good living as a muggle prosecutor after he had finished Hogwarts the first time. He had also become a faithful contributor to many of Harry's fundraisers.

"Harry?" Brandon said in a small voice.

"Hi there," Harry said, smiling.

"If I tell you something, can I trust you to never, ever, ever tell anyone else?" Brandon asked.

Damn, he sure did jump to the heart of the matter, didn't he? No beating around the bush with this one, then.

"Of course," Harry said.

"I… oh god, you'll think I'm crazy. I'm muggle born, you see," he started.

"I don't think you're crazy for that," Harry said with a small smile.

Brandon chuckled without humor. "That's not what I was going to tell you. Well, this summer, I started seeing a psychologist for depression, you see. He's really big on talking things out. He told me that I should confront the things that are causing me anxiety, and whatnot. So, I wanted to talk to you."

"I've been causing you anxiety?" Harry asked, concerned.

Brandon drew a huge breath, and swung his eyes to look at the lake in the distance. "I've had a huge crush on you for more than a year," he said quietly.


	5. All My Underdogs

**Chapter 5:**  
**All My Underdogs**

Brandon drew a huge breath, and swung his eyes to look at the lake in the distance. "I've had a huge crush on you for more than a year," he said quietly. He rushed on, "But, I know you're not like me, and I'm not coming on to you at all-"

"Brandon, calm down," Harry said. He waited for Brandon to catch his breath before continuing, "You are right, I am not attracted to men. But it was very brave of you to tell me that. You've earned my respect for that, Brandon. May I ask if anyone at Hogwarts knows?"

Brandon shook his head fiercely. "No, no one. And please, _please_ don't tell anyone. I'd be ostracized."

Harry nodded. "Wizards are pretty Stone Age about a lot of things, Brandon, but for the most part, they do not care about people's sexuality, especially because you are not pureblood. The main problem you would encounter is at this age, a lot of people aren't mature enough to realize that you're not coming on to them. They'll grow out of it, eventually. But you probably do want to be careful of who you tell, until then," Harry said calmly. He hoped the other teen didn't question his maturity…

Brandon suddenly hugged Harry. Having long gotten over his fear of human contact, Harry returned the hug easily. "Thank you, Harry, for not making fun of me. I should go; my date is waiting for me. Have to keep up appearances," Brandon said, though he sounded like he wanted to cry. "You'll keep my secret?"

"To the grave," Harry said firmly.

"Thanks. Good luck, Harry, with the tournament and all." Brandon smiled and vanished back up the path.

When Harry returned to the castle a half an hour later, the ball was wrapping up. Dumbledore was talking to Snape as the students left. Harry remembered their conversation from the memories Snape had given him in the Shrieking Shack as the Potions Master lay dying.

"Harry," Dumbledore said without looking at him at all, "my office. Now."

So ordered, Harry went to the Headmaster's office and sat down in a comfortable chair. Fawkes flew over and sat on his knee, expecting to be petted. Harry obliged and rubbed Fawke's head.

Dumbledore entered several minutes later and sat behind his desk

"Sorry, sir," Harry said without much remorse. He had a pretty good idea why he had been sent to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore gave him a piercing look.

"You brought a werewolf and a convicted murderer into my school without telling me?"

"Both men are harmless, and you know it," Harry said easily. "Besides, Sirius needed to get out for a bit."

Dumbledore stood and moved around his desk to stand in front of Harry. One of his long fingers poked Harry in the chest. "That is not the point, Harry. I know that Remus and Sirius would never hurt anybody. But any number of things could have happened. You are old enough to have thought better of this."

"How did you know it was really Sirius?" Harry asked. He worried that if Dumbledore knew, someone else might, as well.

"The way he jumped on Remus' back. He did it dozens of times while they were at school. Always when they were 'running for the border'. My turn to question. How did you get hair from your father and Peter Pettigrew?" Dumbledore asked.

"Hair from an animagus does the same thing as taking hair from the wizard. Wormtail posed as Ron's rat for years. We found some of his hair in Ron's trunk. And, it wasn't my father's hair, it was mine. We charmed Charlie's eyes after he drank the Polyjuice potion. I do look like my father, you know," Harry said seriously, as if it were a revelation.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "If I punish you, people would wonder why. I can't very well tell them that Sirius Black was _actually_ in the school. Since nobody was hurt, I suppose I could let you off with a warning. A very stern warning, mind you, Harry. You _must_ be careful, Harry. Getting Sirius in trouble would lead us down a bad path."

"Sirius Black is a grown man. He can make his own decisions. As a matter of fact, so can I," Harry said coldly.

"Yes, I understand that. But you do not seem to make good decisions."

"Stop treating me like I'm fourteen," Harry growled.

"Stop acting like it."

The two men stared at each other for several moments, willing the other to relent. "No," Harry said. "I am having entirely too much fun."

"Then I am afraid I'm going to continue to treat you as an immature adolescent," Dumbledore said. "Why do you insist upon acting this way?"

"Because I didn't act this way last time. I was angry and depressed and bitter my entire childhood. Why would I do the same thing if I have the chance to do it over?"

Fawkes startled him by singing a note of agreement and taking flight from his knee.

When Harry entered the dorm, something very hard hit his shoulder, startling him more than hurting him. "That's for manipulating me," Neville said. Harry suddenly found himself in a quick hug. "And that's for setting me up with Eloise. It was great, Harry. Thanks!"

Neville the walked over to his bed and went to sleep. Harry blinked, wondering where his life had taken a turn onto Crazy Street.

Breakfast the next morning progressed well, until the mail arrived. Several students received the _Daily Prophet_, and it seemed Harry made the front page, courtesy of Rita Skeeter.

_**The Boy-Who-Lived: Queer?**_

"Catchy," Harry said without hesitation.

"Harry, this article says you and another Hogwarts boy were outside last night, talking about the Wizarding world's views on poufs," Ernie Macmillan said loudly.

"That _bitch_," Harry snarled, yanking the paper nearest him out of Angelina Johnson's hand. "How dare she!"

"Yeah!" Justin Finch-Fletchley said, indignant. "How dare she accuse Harry of being gay!"

"What?" Harry demanded, mildly sidetracked. "I don't care if people think I'm gay. But listening in on private conversations and then printing it in the newspaper is not okay with me."

_The Yule Ball, a tradition of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, took place last evening at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a beautiful affair_ …

Harry skipped the bit explaining the ball, having been there. He looked for his name, which was mentioned in conjunction with the Weird Sisters and the prank. He skimmed further down, to the meat of the article.

_Having danced with more than a dozen girls, Harry Potter left the castle and ventured outside. He met another Hogwarts student, where the two boys spoke about how hard it is to be a gay teenager. This reporter's sources do not say if Potter was speaking for himself or not, but it leaves one to wonder… _

_Which side of the fence does Mr. Potter sit on? The other student he spoke with, this reporter does not know his name, admitted to being homosexual. Was this a private rendezvous between two closeted lovers?_

Harry was glad that Brandon's name was not mentioned. That would have been disastrous. "That vile woman," Harry said, slamming the paper down.

"So, Potter," Ernie said, "who's the flamer you were talking to?"

Harry, immersed in thoughts about killing Skeeter, looked up, confused. "What?" he asked.

"I don't want to be bunking with a homo, Harry," Ernie said simply. "Tell us who the perv is. It's only right that we know."

Harry stared at him, adeptly hiding his shock. Ernie was not the only one to share that opinion. Several other people, mostly boys, demanded to be told.

"You're morally obligated to point him out to us, Harry," Ernie persisted.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, silencing the school. "You will cease, Mr. MacMillan. It is none of your business."

"It certainly is, Headmaster," Ernie said, shocking his classmates. Ernie was not the type to backtalk an authority figure, especially the Headmaster. "We should not allow this sickness to pervade Hogwarts."

Harry launched to his feet. So did, surprisingly, Viktor Krum. Everybody looked to the angry Bulgarian. "I play Quidditch," he said, doing his best to say the words clearly. People looked at him, wondering where he was going with that obvious fact. "I haff played Quidditch since I vos a small child. My cousin taught me to fly a broomstick ven I vos two. My cousin is a f…_very_ vealthy man right now, because he is my agent. My cousin is happily married and living vith his husband in Spain. Anyone who spoke to him like this in front of me vould be dealt vith harshly. You haff no right to demand these things."

Most of the people in the hall stared at the famous Quidditch player.

Cedric then stood up with a look that belied his dumb-but-handsome image. He looked genuinely powerful and a bit intimidating. It certainly explained why he had been chosen to compete. "Ernie, I think it is reprehensible that you would lead such a _witch-hunt_. You have shamed our house," the Hufflepuff Seeker said firmly, glaring at Ernie.

Erie held his ground, as did most of the other students that wanted to know. "Listen, Cedric, I'm not saying we should kick the homo out; just make him sleep in a separate dorm, away from other boys."

"I say vee kick _you_ out," Viktor said hotly, crossing his arms and looking furious.

"I am not wrong here," Ernie insisted. "Homosexuality goes against my faith. It is written in the Bible."

Harry stared at him. "You're a _wizard_, Ernie. _That_ goes against the Bible, idiot. Or is it okay, because it's _you_ we're talking about? 'It's okay if Ernie does it'. You're hiding behind the Bible to cover your own prejudice. That's sick, Ernie. That's not what religion is."

Harry stood to leave. "Potter!" Cormac McLaggen said. "Who is it? Come on, tell us. We need to know."

"And I need to punch someone in the teeth. Try not to draw attention to yourself."

"Isn't that cute?" Malfoy's sneering voice cut across the hall. "Potter's defending his lover. Off for another secret rendezvous?"

Two seventh year Ravenclaws blocked the door. "Mr. Henderson, Mr. Voise, I order you to move," Dumbledore said firmly. "If you do not, I will allow Mr. Potter to curse you out of his way."

"Headmaster, Potter should be made to tell," Henderson said. He was a strong bloke with a thick jaw.

"_Made_?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "And who is going to _make_ me?"

Henderson had the build of a henchman with broad shoulders and ham-like forearms. "Listen, Potter, I don't want to be bunking with a faggot."

"Then stop sleeping with your boyfriend," Harry said instantly, nodding to Jake Voise. Henderson growled.

"Andrew!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Stop this minute! You're embarrassing my house!"

Henderson continued to glare at Harry, who said, "Listen, jackass, when I give someone my word, I keep it. No exceptions. Nothing you could possibly do would make me break my word. Now get out of my way."

"Who is it, Potter?" Henderson demanded. He took a threatening step forward. Snape seemed to materialize from nowhere and took Henderson by the collar.

"Congratulations, Henderson, you just volunteered to clean my classroom." He dragged Henderson to the dungeon, ignoring the surprised looks from most of the Hogwarts students.

As soon as he was gone, Voise decked Harry in the mouth. "I think _you're _the faggot, Potter." Both of Harry's lips had split and blood was pouring into his mouth and down his chin. Two of his teeth had been knocked loose, and he spit another onto the floor. Voise pointed his wand at Harry's chest and snarled, "_Diffindo_." A gaping slash appeared across Harry's chest, spilling more blood. "Who is it, Potter?"

"Fuck you," Harry snapped, reaching for his own wand.

"_Incendio_," Voise said. Harry's robes caught on fire, and his shirt ignited as he threw off his robe.

Ignoring that, Harry slashed his wand through the air and knocked Voise to the ground. Several teachers were rushing toward them, none faster than Filius Flitwick, who went under the staff table instead of around it, as the others had. The short-statured man aimed his wand at Voise's head.

"Drop your wand," he ordered. Harry, noticing that his shirt was burning with him in it, drenched himself in water.

"I'm not done with him, Professor," Harry said shortly.

To most everyone's surprised, Flitwick replied, "Finish it later, without witnesses. Drop your wand, Jacob, and get to your feet."

Voise did so, and glared at Harry. McGonagall and Flitwick escorted him from the hall, lecturing him quite fiercely.

"Harry-"

Harry interrupted Dumbledore, still glaring at the spot Voise had vacated. "That fucker," Harry spat. He turned and pushed the Headmaster out of his way to get to Ernie, who stared at Harry in terror. "And _you_. Let this be a warning to you. You need to grow up, Ernie. And quickly. I have little patience for such ignorance. What other people do with their lives is none of your business. I was told something and asked to keep it secret. I promised to take it to my grave, Ernie. Integrity is obviously something you do not understand. Figure it out."

Sufficiently assured that Ernie was terrified, Harry turned back to the Headmaster. "I was going to say," Dumbledore said, "that you've lost a lot of blood. And a right canine, from the looks of it."

Viktor approached Harry and held out his hand, which Harry shook. "You are a good man, Harry."

Harry showed himself to the hospital wing, so Madam Pomfrey could fuss over him. She bustled in and quickly healed his chest. "I am afraid that might scar, Harry," she said with a hint of remorse. "It was a deep wound sustained at close range. Your tooth, however, I can fix. Open your mouth."

She applied some burning concoction to his gum and instructed him not to mess with it in any way whatsoever. She also healed his split lips and loose teeth. She gave him a blood replenishing potion, and told him to lie down. "Professor Sprout is _furious_, as you can imagine. You were quite right to hold your tongue, Harry. That's nobody's business. Good for you, dear."

"This is different," Harry said with a wide smile. "Usually you scold me for injuring myself again."

"Some things are worth a bit of bloodshed, Harry," she said firmly. "Standing up for your beliefs and honor is one of them. I would have been quite disappointed in you if you had broken your word."

"I would die first," Harry said with no hesitation.

"That is what I like about you, Harry," Dumbledore's rumbling voice suddenly said. He was shuffling into the hall with a tired gait. "Goodness, in the infirmary already, and it isn't even midday."

"And I came all by myself," Harry said with a smirk. Dumbledore sat beside his bed and sighed. "How are you, sir?" he asked.

"As you may have guessed, Harry, I do not enjoy punishing students." Harry thought of the three weeks he and Ron had spent confined to their dormitory, and raised an eyebrow. "I make a special exception for you, son," Dumbledore said with a wink. Harry pouted for a moment, before he prompted the Headmaster to continue. "After Filius and Minerva were done with young Mr. Voise, I spoke with him at length. He is confined to his dormitory until I am able to speak to his parents. The Heads of House and I will decide whether or not to expel him after a conference with his parents."

"Expel him!" Madam Pomfrey called from her office.

They continued speaking, pretending the nurse was not listening in on them. "I see," Harry said. "And that is causing you frustration."

Dumbledore nodded. "Expulsion is a very harsh punishment, Harry. It separates people from their world."

"Then do not expel him," Harry said simply with a shrug. He tended to live in a black-and-white world. "Confine him to his dormitory, make him do lines… whatever. You will sleep better at night."

"You will not feel as if the teachers have not stood up for you?" Dumbledore asked. That seemed to be very important to him.

"I am _quite_ capable of defending myself, Headmaster. I have a lot of experience doing so. You must do what feels right to you as Headmaster," Harry said firmly, looking the other man in the eye. "Remember, I am not like other students."

Dumbledore looked down at his hands folded in his lap. "Why can't you children ever just behave, so I do not have to make hard decisions? My hair had _color_ before I became Headmaster, you know."

"You look somewhat ridiculous without silver hair, by the way. This suits you much better."

"Thanks for that, Harry," Dumbledore said, glancing at him over his glasses. "I feel much better now."

They spoke for quite a while after that, careful of what they said for fear of curious ears.

Later, the Headmaster left to meet with the other Professors. Harry took out paper and pen to write a note to Sirius.

_Sirius,_

_Dumbledore was a bit furious over your performance. Surprisingly, he has not booked us for another. Be sure to thank Bill and Charlie for me. And ask Bill where he got the enchanted instruments. Last I checked, you're as tone deaf as a rock. _

_So, what do we do next?_

_Harry_

Harry was not in the hall when Albus entered. Ron and Hermione were at the end of the Gryffindor table nearest the door, and Viktor Krum was with them. He seemed disinclined to continue sitting at the Slytherin table, after young Draco's comments. The three of them were talking and laughing, something Albus had never seen Viktor do before. It was nice.

Albus thought about the meeting that morning. Minerva and Severus had voted for expulsion, while Filius and Pomona voted against expulsion. Severus' vote was a surprise to Albus. The Headmaster would have thought Severus would want to give Jacob a medal.

Apparently, Severus really did understand how important it was to protect Harry.

Unbidden, Albus' eyes swept the hall, wondering just who had confided in Harry. He also wondered if this had happened the first time Harry had been through his fourth year.

To his surprise, Pomona sat to his left for breakfast. She usually sat down at the end of the table near her good friend, Poppy. "Hello, Albus," she said, helping herself to porridge. "I wanted to let you know that I have dealt with Ernie MacMillan. He has a week to copy the definitions of the words 'integrity', 'prejudice', and 'homo' five hundred times each. After that week, he will report to you to explain what he has learned of those words."

"That's a little harsh-"

"And he lost a hundred points."

"Pomona!" Albus said in surprise.

"And he has detention with Severus for two weeks."

"Good lord, woman!" Albus said. "You did not punish him; you sentenced him to death!" Pomona blushed lightly.

"I may have been a bit angry," she admitted, cutting up some pancake. "But Ernie must learn that Hogwarts is a safe environment for learning, and that such vile remarks will not be tolerated."

"I will certainly make quite sure he will not make such vile remarks in the future, Pomona," Severus said from a few seats to Albus' right. "I thank you for giving me the detentions. I have not gotten to make a Hufflepuff cry in a few weeks; I'm feeling out of sorts."

"Now Severus," Albus said, looking at him over his glasses.

Harry entered the hall then, looking as if he was hiding from someone. Viktor moved over to make room for him at their table. The cause for Harry's unease became apparent when a horde of owls flew into the hall, all headed for the scarred teen.

"Damn it! Go _away_," Harry said.

"What is this, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, just the public registering their opinion of my life." Harry flicked one of the owls, sending it into the air with a screech.

"Harry, most of these are really positive," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

"I don't care about the tone of the letter; my life is none of these people's business. Oi, I am going to kill the next owl that tries to come near me," Harry snapped at the birds. They all looked at him for a moment, and then flew away. One more flew into the hall, and Harry snatched the letter, glaring at the owl.

"How'd you know not to kill that one, Harry?" taunted Seamus Finnigan.

"Handwriting."

"Who's writing you?" Dean Thomas asked. "Everybody that would write you is at this school."

"Not true," Harry said, glaring at Dean. "I know plenty of people. Plenty."

"Name one," Dean challenged.

"Blow it out your-" Harry cut himself off, staring at the note he had received. "Not who I thought it was from."

"Who is it from, then?" Hermione asked.

"Moony," Harry replied. "He is in a muggle hospital."

Harry stood and left the hall.

"But you didn't eat!" Ron called after him.

Classes quickly resumed their normal routine after the winter holiday. Ron tried more than once to get Harry to explain why Remus was in a hospital, but Harry continued to put him off. It took several tries to get his friend to finally explain that Moony had been found by muggle authorities after his transformation, and they had taken him to the hospital. He had been found to be suffering a problem with his kidney.

On the first day of lessons, Harry read the article about Hagrid being half-Giant in the newspaper. Hagrid was not in the Great Hall for breakfast, and he did not show up to lunch, either.

Harry figured that the article did not occur right after the ball so as to not conflict with the Gay Savior headline. Who was Rita Skeeter to deny herself two huge stories? Overlapping issues divided reader's attention, anyway.

At the end of the week, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to go find him. They approached his hut with determination. Harry and Ron, who had done this before, banged on the door when Hagrid did not first answer.

"Hagrid, open up, you prat!" Ron yelled. "If you think we didn't already know about this, let me tell you something!"

"We _didn't_ know about this," Hermione whispered.

Ron turned to look at her and said, "I'm making him feel better, Hermione."

"Oh."

"Hagrid, I will huff and puff and blow this whole house down if you do not _open this door_," Harry shouted. He wasn't wearing a jacket, and it was _cold_ outside.

"My, my, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's voice said from behind them. The three students turned and saw the Headmaster standing just a few feet behind them. "Were you threatening a Hogwarts teacher?"

"Me? _No_." Harry took a deep breath and drew himself up importantly. "I was threatening a Hogwarts teacher's home. Big difference."

"Stand aside, children," Dumbledore said, approaching the door. He knocked calmly and asked, "Hagrid, would you be so kind as to allow myself and my three friends here to enter your home?"

The door slowly opened. Fang nearly bowled Dumbledore over to get to Harry. The huge boarhound licked Harry's face and ears while the other three entered the large hut. "Fang, down Fang. Get down. Hey!"

Harry was finally able to enter Hagrid's home. "Hi, Hagrid!" Harry said brightly upon seeing his friend. Hagrid looked quite a sight. His hair was tangled and his eyes were puffy. Without thinking about it, Harry threw his arms around the older man and hugged him. "I was getting worried about you."

"Why?" Hagrid asked, tearing up again. " 'S jus' me, a monster."

"Come now, Hagrid, you are no monster," Dumbledore said warmly. The old Headmaster put on a pot of tea and waited for the water to boil. "You simply enjoy the company of monsters."

"Yeah, Hagrid!" Hermione said, patting his large hand. "Anybody that knows you knows that you wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Tha' woman accused me o' bein' dangerous," Hagrid said. Huge tears spilled down his face, dripping into his beard.

"What does that cu- woman know about you, Hagrid?" Harry demanded. "_Nothing_. Now, I've only known you for three years, but I know you're a good person. I'd rather be your friends than Skeeter's any day."

Dumbledore withdrew a stack of letters from one of the pockets of his robe. He carefully placed them on the table in front of Hagrid. "My dear fellow, these are letters from several parents. They all knew you when they were students here. They have threatened legal action… if I fire you. I therefore refuse your resignation, Hagrid," the Headmaster said firmly. "I will request, however, that you tone down your classes for a while. No dangerous beasts until after Easter, hmm?"

"Alright, Headmaster," Hagrid said. "They jus' aren't any fun if they're not dangerous. Mus' jus' be cos I'm unstable, I guess."

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry stated. "Hagrid, you are much bigger than the average person. Things that are dangerous to, say, me… don't hurt you. Tell you what," he said, "Ron, Hermione, and I will help you come up with some nice, safe lesson plans for the next few weeks. Unicorns and fairies and all that nonsense."

"Yeah!" Ron agreed. "We'll show them!"

"Must everything be about vengeance with you, Ronald?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

Ron blinked. "Yes."

"See, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, "you have friends that do not care about your parentage. I would not have hired you if I thought you would hurt a student."

"Malfoy-"

"Malfoy is a ridiculous little boy that wants attention and wasn't hugged enough as a child so he's trying to make up for it by making everyone around him as miserable as he is," Harry said sharply. "If I shut myself in my room every time _Malfoy_ said something offensive to me, I'd never be able to leave the dorm."

Dumbledore nodded. "That is very accurate, Harry. You can not hope for everybody to like you. It will not happen, my friend."

Hagrid blew his nose on an exceptionally large handkerchief and said, "Thanks, Professor. And thanks, you three. I woulda tol' you lot, 'ventually. I jus' didn' wan the whole world ter know it."

"We understand, Hagrid. There's plenty of stuff I wouldn't want the whole world to know, that I would tell my friends," Hermione said.

Harry and Ron slowly turned to look at her, and Ron said, "Like what, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Well, uh… Well, you know what I mean," Hermione said. "Harry never wanted the world to know he can speak to snakes."

"I have no problem with people knowing I can speak to snakes," Harry said. "What I wouldn't want the world to know is that until I was eleven, I was beaten nearly every day."

After only a moment of hesitation Ron said, "I wouldn't want the world to know that one of my cousins molested me when I was six."

Hermione looked at her two friends in shock.

"But I'll tell my friends that, if I trust them," Harry said quietly, looking at everyone gathered at the table. Ron nodded.

Hagrid burst into fresh tears and pulled Harry and Ron into a hug.

Albus Dumbledore found himself in a situation where he had no idea what to say. He sat at Hagrid's table, absorbing what the two boys had just revealed. He maintained a very calm look on his face, while inside his heart was pounding so hard he thought his eardrums might explode.

The Headmaster glanced at Hermione, who had tears pouring down her face.

When Hagrid had calmed again, he sat back in his chair. "I'm goin ter kill those ruddy Dursleys!" he boomed.

Harry took Hagrid's hand and said, "Don't bother yourself, Hagrid. There's bigger fish to fry in the world than Vernon Dursley."

"Well, more _important_; I'm not sure how normal men could be _bigger_ than that man," Ron said snidely.

The five of them talked for a few more minutes, before the three students had to return to the castle. Albus escorted them. At the portrait of the Fat Lady, Albus asked to speak to the two boys privately for a moment. Hermione entered the common room, glancing back at her friends in concern.

"Boys, what you revealed tonight concerns me a great deal," Albus said. He looked at them over the top of his glasses, and cast several privacy charms around them.

"Don't worry about it, Headmaster," Harry said dismissively.

Ron nodded. "Just, please, don't tell my mother. I don't want to deal with that."

Albus felt a deep weight in his chest. "Ronald, it would be irresponsible of me-"

"Sir, it was fifty-two years ago, to me," Ron said quietly. "I have long since gotten over it."

"Exactly, sir," Harry said. "Bringing up old memories won't do us any good now."

Ron smirked. "Yeah, fifty-two years is how long Moaning Myrtle has been dead, and look at where whining about it has gotten _her_," he said.

Albus shook his head. "To you, it has been more than half a century." Harry and Ron made identical sounds of disgust when they were reminded of their age. "But to the rest of the world, it has been less than a decade."

"That makes no difference, sir," Harry said. "Please, let it go."

Albus let out a deep breath. "I will abide by your wishes, boys. I feel I am doing the wrong thing, however-"

Harry put a hand on his shoulder and said in a consoling way, "It isn't the first time you've done the wrong thing."

Ron nodded solemnly. "You did leave Harry with his relatives."

Albus winced. "I am sorry, Harry."

"Do not worry about it, Headmaster. I have other, more interesting things to be angry with you about," Harry said brightly.


	6. Not Afraid

**Chapter 6:****  
Not Afraid  
**

Harry and Ron walked into the common room. There were a few students not in their dorms yet, and they looked over at the two time-travelers with distaste. Gryffindors, for their part, stood up for Harry when the rest of the school was tormenting him, but otherwise they did not seem to like him much.

Harry dramatically pointed to a third year boy and gestured him over. The boy nervously walked over to where Harry and Ron stood near the entrance to the common room. "Hey, kid. Why do you all hate me?" he asked. Why beat around the bush?

The younger boy's eyes widened and he tried to back away, but Ron blocked his departure in a swift move. "They don't like you because you guys are weird. You used to be nice. Now you're rude and arrogant and kinda scary. Can I go now?" the boy asked.

Harry nodded and let the boy run back to his group of friends, which collectively started questioning him as soon as he reached them. Somewhat distracted, Harry and Ron made their way up to their dorm. Without another thought, they walked over to the giant trunk that held their collection of candy.

There was still more than a hundred pounds of candy left in the second hand trunk. They each grabbed a handful and sat on their beds. "So, Harry," Ron said. "Have we any plans for alcohol in the near future?"

Harry smirked and retrieved his bottle of vodka from near his bed. "Busy?"

"YATZEE!" Ron bellowed. "But what are we going to-"

Harry snapped his fingers, and all manner of non-alcoholic beverages appeared. Cranberry juice, orange juice, apple juice. Some Harry couldn't readily identify.

The two men stayed up all night and finished the handle of vodka together, then moved on to a few other drinks. Still drunk, they stumbled into breakfast and sat on either side of Hermione. "Whazzup, Hermione?" Ron demanded. He up-ended a platter of eggs on his plate, then covered that in sausage and bacon.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione asked.

Ron's voice was louder than necessary when he said, "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be? Oh my god! Pancakes! I love pancakes. Pass me the pancakes!"

"Harry, what's wrong with him?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Harry said, pointing at her in an exaggerated way. "He's an ass, kinda. And he's mean. And- WAFFLES! Jeezaloozus! Where did those come from? You! Small child with the ugly face! Hand me those!"

Harry and Ron both got their food and sat munching happily. "Syrup," Ron said, looking up and down their table. "We need syrup." There was none at the Gryffindor table, but the Hufflepuffs had some. "Hey, hand over the syrup, Puffypoos."

"Get your own," an unfortunate sixth year said coldly.

They obviously did not know that Ron had been very close to declaring war on Canada for a very similar reason while he had been Minister of Magic.

Ron stood up and pointed to the sixth year. "You miserable, vile, despicable _worm_ of a human being!" he thundered.

"Weasley! What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall asked.

"That… that pile of waste won't give me syrup! _How_ does one eat pancakes without syrup? This is a plot against me!" Ron, Harry had learned, was a paranoid drunk.

"Sit down and stop bothering Hufflepuffs, Weasley," McGonagall snapped.

Ron did not sit down, however. He marched toward the staff table and snatched the syrup pot from in front of the Headmaster. "I find it highly suspicious that _my_ table is the only one without syrup. I will be looking into this conspiracy."

"In the mean time, Mr. Weasley, take yourself and Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing," the Headmaster ordered.

Ron huffed with indignation and walked toward the door. As he passed the sixth year Hufflepuff, he paused and poured the syrup on him without even looking. He then continued out of the hall. Harry followed him, chuckling at the sticky student.

Madam Pomfrey gave them stern looks when they walked in. She pointed to some of the beds and said, "Lay down."

She filled them with sobering potion and then ordered them to stay in bed until she returned. And she did return, with McGonagall. Who was pretty much furious.

"What were you thinking?" she demanded, throwing up some privacy wards. She stood between their beds with her hands on her hips. "I am going to have your asses."

"Threesome?" Ron asked. "I should let you know that I don't have much stamina, but I-"

"Shut up, Weasley!" snarled their Head of House. "We could have kept your little drinking binges secret, if _you_ kept it secret. You have no discretion. Now we have to punish you, so people don't suspect anything. As soon as you're sober, you're to go to the Headmaster's office." She stared at them for another moment, before she rounded on Harry. "And you, Potter, are under constant watch by the media. How do you think they're going to take this?"

Harry smiled.

Once sober, the two teens went to the Headmaster's office, where the older man was waiting for them. He was standing behind his desk pacing rapidly. When they entered he turned sharply and looked at them with a spark of anger in his eyes. "Do you have no self control?" Dumbledore asked. He sat down in his chair and gestured for the boys to do the same.

"Well, we have a little," Ron said. He was comfortably stretched out in the chair. "I mean, I haven't bitch-slapped anybody, and Harry hasn't knocked up any girls yet, so... Yeah, self control."

Dumbledore gave him a cold look. "Is that so?" he inquired. "I don't know what to do. The usual punishment for drinking on Hogwarts grounds is a week of suspension. However, with your history… the governors may ask for expulsion. What do you have to say about that? You've put me in a terrible position! This is not good, boys!"

"Obviously you've never woken up tied to a bed naked surrounded by eight angry women in a foreign country with no recollection of what happened the night before," Harry said. "That's a terrible position. This is merely inconvenient."

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, mouth agape, and he started to say, _'What did you do_?' before he shook his head and stated, "I honestly don't know what to do with you." The Headmaster lowered his head and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "This is serious."

"We know, sir," Harry said calmly. "And we expect to be punished severely."

"What?" Ron demanded, turning to face Harry.

Harry smirked at him, and then turned to Dumbledore. "Sir, it is, as we have said, your job to punish students that break rules. I think two weeks of suspension should sate the blood thirsty governors."

"What do you have planned, boy?" Dumbledore asked. His brow had crinkled and his eyes sharpened. He leaned forward, and failed to hide his suspicion.

"Why must you think I am planning something? I am simply taking responsibility for my actions." Harry smiled as innocently as he possibly could and looked between the two people that were staring at him in confusion. "What?" he asked when they did not stop staring.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Ron stated.

* * *

Ron's appearance in the Great Hall the next morning during breakfast was nothing short of startling. His voice reached the room before his body, and he was yelling, "That conceited, arrogant, unthoughtful, horrific- Harry Potter!"

He was red-faced and panting from exertion and anger. In his hand was a small piece of paper, and he was clutching it fiercely.

"Hello, Ron," Harry said from his seat at the Gryffindor table, close to the staff table.

"Don't you 'hello, Ron' me!" the angry teen barked.

"Mister Weasley, you have already been suspended from school. What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall asked. She was just to the right of the Headmaster, who appeared faintly amused.

Ron pointed to Harry, who was innocently munching toast. "That ridiculous human being is the meaning of this." Ron slowly began walking toward Harry. "You are a terrible person. A terrible, terrible person. Have you no shame? Do you do anything without ulterior motives?"

"No," Harry answered without pausing.

"Why. Just why? Do you hate me?" Ron asked. He stopped halfway between Harry and the door.

"I may hold some animosity," Harry said vaguely.

"You got me drunk and suspended," Ron slowly stated with a dark edge to his voice, "so that you could go to a movie? A_ movie_, Potter?"

Harry seemed offended. He stood quickly enough to upset the table. He took several steps toward Ron with a finger pointed at his chest. "Not _a_ movie, man. The movie. You have no idea how important it is for me to see this."

"My fucking god, you're incurable," Ron snapped. He held up the paper in his hand. "Where the hell did you get an advanced ticket to _Braveheart_?"

"The same place I got the vodka, rum, beer, tequila, schnapps, and whiskey," Harry said easily.

"You are deliberately infuriating," Ron stated as a matter-of-fact. "You are a hateful, hateful, _hateful_ person."

"And how will you feel when I say that that is not my ticket. It is yours."

Ron's face changed from anger to glee so fast that it must have hurt. "Mine?" he asked. "I'm going? Well, hell yes, then! Hugo would be-"

The freckled teen's face seized for a moment, but it smoothed over.

"Who is Hugo?" Hermione asked.

"A cousin," Ron answered swiftly. Pity anyone that tried to verify that; the Weasley's were as numerous as their freckles.

"Aye," Harry said, nodding to Ron. "Of course, _if_ I could go back in time, I'd go somewhere around 1977." Harry's voice held a note of frustration, and few could figure out why he gave the ceiling a rather angry look.

"_A New Hope_," Ron said. "Sweet, man."

"Weasley, you're expected in the Headmaster's office in fifteen minutes," McGonagall said sternly, approaching them from the staff table. "Potter, just leave."

"Well," Harry said indignantly, "I can see where I am not wanted."

Without another word, the two boys walked from the hall Harry turned out of the castle, and Ron headed up the stairs.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Albus said when the boy entered his office. "Your mother should be here shortly."

Albus distinctly head Ron murmur, 'love of god'. "For the last several years, she's been fairly frail, you know. Not the battle axe she is now. I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course. She softened with old age, you know. Fred's death really did hit her hard. And then with Victoire…" Ron came back to himself, and he cleared his throat. "Well, it will be different."

"You are strong, Ron," Albus said gravely, "you will get through it somehow."

"You're teasing me," Ron spluttered in disbelief. "You can't tease me; you're Dumbledore!"

Albus smiled and stood from behind his desk. "I can too tease you. I just did. I do enjoy teasing people. Just ask Minerva."

"Um, did you see the look she gave me a moment ago? I'm afraid to ask her the time of day."

"Minerva is not as angry as she lets on," Albus said calmly. Ron was pacing in front of the fireplace. Before the boy could deny that statement, the fire flashed green, and a furious Molly Weasley stepped through the flames.

Albus did not even get a 'good morning' from her before she started yelling at Ron. "Not even Fred and George did something this stupid, Ronald Billius! How could you?"

"Well, getting through the _whole_ bottle did take some perseverance, but we managed somehow."

"And where is Harry, hmm?" Molly asked, rounding on Albus. "Surely he is to be punished as well? If he is to stay at the Burrow-"

"My dear Molly," Albus said. "Harry was given the same punishment as Ronald. He is, as of now… off of Hogwarts grounds and therefore officially outside of my range of authority."

Molly stared at him. "What." Having known her since she was eleven, Albus knew the warning signs of her anger. "You let a boy wander off on his own?"

"Harry is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. At the moment, he should be meeting with my brother in Hogsmeade. Now, Ron is to return here in two weeks, hopefully a little more responsible, hmm?" Albus said, looking to Ron.

"I was perfectly responsible," Ron said with a straight face. "I'm the one that suggested we shouldn't open the second bottle. I lost that one, though."

Molly simply rounded on Ron and pointed to the fireplace. He took the hint and left the office. "Albus, I trust you implicitly," Molly stated, turning back to him. "But I don't think you're handling Harry well at all. That boy practically runs wild around here- and I know that most of it isn't his fault. And with those blasted relatives… well. But you need to do something. He's going to end up hurt."

"I am looking after him, Molly," Albus said firmly.

"Not well enough, Albus. That boy needs love and guidance. I'm just not sure you're the man for the job. Good day, Albus."

As the forty-five year old Molly Weasley escorted her son home, Albus wondered not for the first time what she would think when she realized that her youngest son was just shy of sixty-years-old.

Albus would have to be sure to keep potions on hand, for when she happened to find out. That left him to wonder if Ron ever meant to tell her.

* * *

Harry sat at the counter at the Hogshead and spoke with Aberforth. "You know, boy, that Albus is going to blame me for this."

Harry took a deep breath and placed a hand on the older man's shoulder, and said, "You'll live."

The barman slapped his hand away. "Whelp," he muttered. Harry was meeting Sirius at the pub, but his godfather wasn't due for an hour. "Hey, I got a present for you."

Aberforth reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle. The liquid inside was a light green color, and the light seemed to make it fluoresce. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"This is an old wizarding drink, invented by some twat that was trying to cure lycanthrope a few hundred years ago. Turns out, this stuff'll really do a guy in. It's the ultimate drink. That's all I'll say. Don't try it unless you've got some time set aside. It's worth it, though. It puts hair on the chest, you know."

Harry took the bottle with thanks and they talked for an hour. Aberforth didn't get much business during the day. _All the misfits sleep during the day_, he explained.

Sirius bounded through the cracked door disguised in his animagus form. Harry had a moment of nostalgia and sadness so intense that he nearly fell off the barstool he sat on. Sirius became himself again and casually walked over and pulled Harry into an affectionate hug.

"Hey, kiddo," Sirius said, ruffling his hair. "Heard you had a run in with McGonagall. Drinking before breakfast? Shit, mate, you've got balls."

Smirking, Harry said, "Talent. Now, where are we off to?"

Sirius' amused expression turned to distaste. "My ancestral home, kiddo."

They talked with Aberforth for several more minutes, before the journeyed to a backroom to leave. Harry illegally apparated himself and Sirius to Grimmauld Place, startling his godfather. "Where did you learn that?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, here and there. Now, this place looks like shit. I think we need to do some fixing."

A crash echoed from the kitchen, and the portrait of Sirius' mother woke up. Not knowing they had met, Sirius introduced them. "I hate that woman," Sirius stated after he finally got the curtains closed.

"Why don't you get rid of the picture?" asked Harry. It was odd for him to have to ask questions he knew the answer to, especially if Sirius was the one that had told him in the first place.

Sirius looked between Harry and the closed curtain and then said, "Well, we can't. I've tried."

Harry resolved to have the portrait gone by morning. The two men entered the kitchen, where Remus was sitting, attempting to reach a bottle on a high shelf. Sirius rushed over and slapped his hands away. "I told you, Remus, the doctor said not to overexert yourself. Harry's here!"

Remus looked exhausted and a bit beat up, but otherwise exactly as Harry had seen him at the end of his third year. Seeing dead people again was not something Harry thought he was going to get used to. "Hi, Professor," Harry said, walking forward to shake Remus' hand.

"Please, Harry, call me Remus. I'm not a professor anymore."

"Damn shame that is," Harry said firmly. "You were fantastic."

Harry could not be sure, but he thought Remus might have blushed. "You've got Mad-Eye now; he's much better than I was."

Harry shook his head and sat beside the other man. "Moody is okay as an instructor, but he's crap at being a teacher. You really cared about all of your students, that was obvious. I'd prefer you any day."

The kind man was silent a moment, before he said, "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that." Remus cleared his throat and took on a stern tone. "Now what is this about drinking, young man? Do we have to have a talk?"

He couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him. "Did I tell you that Aberforth has been kind enough to tell me all of the things you guys got up to at Hogwarts? Sorry, Remus, but you have zero moral ground on which to lecture me."

Remus let out the smallest smile. "Well, nobody got hurt, I suppose."

"And it was only vodka, which is for kids anyway," Sirius added. Harry looked at him across the table.

"Nah, we just didn't tell the teachers about the Patrón."

The three men spent the next few days getting to know each other, even though Harry already knew most of the stories they told. He didn't mind; it was great that he had them around to tell him stories. Harry did get rid of Walburga Black, though, much to the astonishment of the two Marauders.

They two older men even began showing Harry the basics of the animagus transformation, something Harry had learned as an adult. But the way the Marauders explained it seemed to much simpler.

They spent most of their time joking and laughing, but did a great deal of work on the house, as well.

"I don't know why Dumbledore suggested we clean this old rathole up," Sirius said one morning during breakfast. "But he objected to us setting it on fire, for some reason or another."

"Is that why Remus isn't cooking?" Harry asked, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup as he drank. Remus threw a piece of toast at Harry, which he ate. "What are we up to today, Sirius?" Harry asked.

Sirius turned a chair around and sat so that his was straddling the back. He looked extremely excited, going so far as to rub his hands together. In a conspiring tone, he said, "Today is January fourth!"

"Thanks, mate," Remus said, "but the paper already told me that."

Sirius looked exasperated as he said, "Forget the day! Think of the day! It's the first Wednesday of the month!"

Harry and Remus both shook their heads, both wondering if perhaps the Dementors had been crueler to Sirius than they had first thought. "Sirius-"

Shaking his hands in front of him and staring at the ceiling, Sirius blurted out, "Snivellus always goes to the apothecary on the first Saturday of the month to pick up potions ingredients than cannot be owled!"

"_How_ do you know that, Padfoot?" Remus asked.

"Simple, Moony! See, last year, I had nothing to do but stalk Hogwarts, so I got to know a lot of the teacher's schedules and whatnot. Flitwick goes out to the Three Broomsticks every Tuesday night and plays gobstones with an old dueling buddy. Madam Hooch… well, we won't go there," Sirius said with a wink. "But, we need to fuck with Snivelly."

"Can't you leave that poor man alone?" Remus asked.

"Are you done with your requisite bleeding heart 'save-the-world, people-are-good-deep-down' nonsense?" Sirius asked, deadpan.

"I think so."

"Let's fuck with Snivelly!"

Harry and Remus were casually strolling through Diagon Ally when they ran into Molly Weasley just outside of Madam Malkin's. The mother of seven looked a bit harried. "Oh, hello, dear!" she said when she saw Harry. She then gave him a ten minute lecture on alcohol. Inspiration struck Harry then.

He looked down at the ground and nodded along with her. "I know, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sorry, I really am. It was stupid. But… drinking makes the nightmares go away, and the Dreamless Sleep potion stopped working for Ron and I ages ago."

"Ron's been taking sleep potions?" Molly asked, her protective maternal instincts kicking in instantly.

Harry nodded miserably. "Please don't tell him I've told you. We… well, with the Dementors last year, and. . . well, it really started in the Chamber of Secrets. Ron was really affected by that. He never heard of any of his brothers having nightmares, and he doesn't want to be treated like a baby, so he never told you. Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

She looked a bit distracted as she pulled him into a hug. "It's alright, dear. Now, who is this man you are with?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she released Harry. She was looking Remus over with a bit of suspicion.

"Oh! Mrs. Weasley, this is Remus Lupin. He was friends with my father in school. Moony, this is Molly Weasley, my best mate's mum and the best mother in the world."

They shook hands, and Mrs. Weasley beamed at the compliment.

"How do you do, ma'am," Remus said cordially.

"Remus Lupin…?" Mrs. Weasley's eyes lit up and she said, "The Defense teacher from last year! Oh, my children had nothing but compliments for you!" Her eyes clouded for a moment, and she said, "Oh, dear, it's just terrible that you left."

"My condition-"

"Is of no concern to those bleeding bureaucratic pillocks," Molly said firmly. Her language startled Harry. "My husband, Arthur, and I know that it is what's inside that matters, dear. You were a good teacher, and you seem like a good man. Harry is a good judge of character. I insist that you two come to dinner tonight. And who is this?"

Sirius, as a dog, had walked up to them with impatient eyes. "Oh, my dog, um." Remus' pause explained that he had not been the Marauder that came up with cover stories. "Pavlov."

Mrs. Weasley looked a bit confused, but patted the dog on the head, anyway. "Well, bring him along, too. There'll be plenty of food. It's only Arthur, Ron, Percy and I at the house at the moment. I really insist. I'm used to cooking for large groups, and I miss company. Harry can tell you where we are. Dinner is at seven, dears."

And with that, she bustled off with her shopping. Remus slowly turned to Harry, who wore a soft smile. "What a nice woman," Remus commented.

The three continued to the apothecary swiftly. Right on time, Snape strode down the alley, scattering unfortunate souls that dared get in his way. He banged through the door of the shop and barked at the clerk, who jumped on his order.

Remus and Harry walked in as Snape demanded boomslang skin. "Why, hello, Severus!" Remus jovially exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Lupin," Snape said coldly. "What are you doing here? You couldn't make a potion if your life depended on it. Which it does, by the way."

Ignoring the jibe, Remus bounced on the balls of his feet. "Oh, you know, showing Harry around."

"Hello, Professor."

"Enjoying suspension, Potter?" Snape asked.

"Quite a bit, thank you. And what has you out and about today, Professor?" Harry asked politely.

Snape gave him a dark look, searching Harry's face for mischief. "Potions ingredients, Potter. Notice you did not run into me in the robe shop," the man sneered.

"Well," Remus said, his face alight with happiness, "it is fortunate I ran into you today, Severus. I was going to owl you. You no longer need to brew my potion for me. I do greatly appreciate the time you took, though. Very kind of you."

"Oh?" Snape asked. "Have you decided to run with the beast inside of you?"

Remus smiled warmly. "Oh, no, no. I've decided to hire a private brewer."

Snape gave Remus a dirty look. "Good luck with that, then."

When Snape walked out of the shop after making his purchase, the clerk looked to Harry with a small grin.

"Well, Remus, I think we need to go to the bank right about now."

"I think you are very right."

Albus was sitting at his desk when the door was thrown open with such violence that the only thing that kept it from splintering was a charm set in place for that specific purpose. Albus himself jumped a little at the suddenness of the action.

Severus Snape stalked into the room and dropped a shopping bag on his desk.

"What is this, Severus?" Albus asked.

Without a word, the potions master upturned the bag spilled potion ingredients all over Albus' desk. "Potter."

Albus put on a shocked face. "You finally snapped and harvested him for potions!" he exclaimed.

"No, Headmaster! I went shopping today. I distinctly remember purchasing boomslang skin, lacewing flies, and dragon blood. What is this?"

Albus looked at the bottles and said, "Powdered dung beetle, large intestine of poisonous frog, and crushed monkey teeth."

"All of which are much cheaper than the items I purchased, Albus. I ran into Potter and Lupin at the apothecary-"

"And you were not instantly suspicious, Severus? If there are two people in the world that should not be allowed near potion ingredients, it is those two."

"I _was_ suspicious, but I kept my eyes on them the whole time. They didn't go near my purchases. Black must have been there," Severus declared.

"I think it was an honest mistake on the part of the store clerk, Severus."

Severus glared at him mutinously. "Potter did this. I know it."

"When are you going to get over this childish hatred of a young boy?" Albus asked tiredly.

"When Potter dies. So, at the rate he's going, sometime in the next few months."

Albus felt the urge to shake the man.

* * *

Remus was a bit uncomfortable in the Burrow. He didn't know the people he was talking to at all. Sirius was in his element, though. Molly was feeding him scraps of chicken and potatoes as she cooked. Arthur was talking to Remus about the muggle world.

"You worked as a delivery man?" Arthur asked in excitement. His eyes were sparkling, and it made him look young.

"Yes," Remus said. "I delivered packages between businesses and such. I rode a bicycle around London."

It took him several minutes to explain bicycle messaging. Harry and Ron were talking in a corner with their heads bent together. Whatever they were saying, it was not very happy.

Dinner was set on the table, and all six people sat themselves. Percy was speaking to his father about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and was sending Harry rather dark looks. He barely touched his plate as he excitedly spoke of the second task, never revealing the actual task.

"Have you figured out your clue yet, Harry?" Molly asked.

"Months ago," Harry replied. He was digging into his chicken with gusto. He really had missed Molly's cooking.

"Really?" Percy skeptically queried.

"Yes, really. Perhaps if they made something hard about this stupid competition, it would be more interesting." Harry glanced at Percy's expression, and saw that it had darkened considerably.

"The competition is hard enough, I should think. I believe you got lucky with the dragon. The next one is much harder, I assure you. And the third one- don't get me started on that one!"

"Okay," Ron agreed easily. "Don't get started."

"Hush, Ronald," Molly snapped.

"Mrs. Weasley-" Molly cut Remus off and asked him to use her first name. "Molly," he amended, "I'm currently remodeling the house of an old school friend. I was wondering if perhaps Ron could come help? I am no longer young, you see, and could use the help. I'd actually need him for about a week. Could you spare him?"

Molly looked to Arthur, who looked a bit like a deer in the headlights. He obviously wasn't used to being asked his opinion on what the children did. His fork had stopped halfway to his mouth, with his jaw hanging open, as he stared at his wife. "Uh, that sounds fine."

Molly turned back to Remus. "Ron can go, of course. He has to be back to Hogwarts in a week. Could you take him?"

Remus nodded. "Certainly, when I take Harry. Wonderful! This will make everything much easier."

Harry, Ron, Remus, and Sirius returned to Grimmauld Place hours later, after many servings had been consumed. Ron looked around the room, turned to Remus and said, "You're on your own with this, mate."

Remus rolled his eyes and took off for the kitchen.

* * *

Albus was sitting in his office innocently doing paperwork, something about a budget, when his fireplace all but exploded. Ron Weasley flew across his office, quickly followed by Harry Potter. Harry erupted out of the fireplace with such force that he crashed into Ron and sent them both into a bookcase.

Harry sprang up and dusted himself off, leaving Ron to drag himself to his feet. "Hello, sir!" Harry exclaimed, moving toward Albus.

"Mr. Potter," Albus said with a note of mock superiority in his voice, "did you sprint into the fire?"

Harry's eyes widened. "How'd you know? Ron and I were playing tag. I won, I think."

"Ass," muttered Ron.

"Have you two learned anything from your punishment?" Albus asked, seriously.

"Yes!" Harry said. "Scots are angry people. Don't mess with them."

Albus looked at the teen over his glasses. "I am not joking, Mr. Potter."

"Sir, I spent the last two weeks with my godfather. All I've eaten is toast and ice cream. I would like you to tell me just where the punishment was."

Albus gave him a hard look and said, "If you do not quite feel punished, I could quickly rectify that."

"Um… No, I'm good, sir." Harry smiled innocently.

Albus nodded slowly and stood. "You two are on thin ice-"

"I guess jumping up and down would be bad."

"One more chance, Harry. Now, I suggest that you two attempt to maintain a low profile. Remember, the Ministry is here, and watching. Harry, that is a very strong suggestion."

"Aw, come on, sir. Where is the fun in that?" Harry replied with a smile.

The Headmaster chose to ignore him. "Now, tell me, what exactly did you do to Professor Snape to rile him so?"

Harry's smirk did not bode well for Severus. "I paid all of the apothecaries in Great Britain to mess up all of his orders for at least the next three years. For just that reason, I found it necessary to convince Remus to buy his wolfsbane from a private brewer."

Albus shook his head. "What am I to do with you, Harry? You're impossible!"

"But lovable."

"What else did you do that I am going to have to smooth over?" Albus did not really want to know, but he had not gotten where he was in life by backing down from challenges.

"Well," Harry started, shifting his eyes and trying to remember, "Remus, Sirius and I went to Las Vegas and sampled just about every alcohol known to man. Then, when Remus was sleeping in the hotel, Sirius and I poured an entire keg of beer on him and ran out of the room. To make it worse, we vanished his boxers as he started chasing us. So, we had to bail Remus out of prison when he was charged with indecent exposure. We also had to smuggle him out of town. Not because of the law, but because some drag queens were mighty interested in him."

Albus found that he could not make his jaw function correctly. He was left gaping stupidly at the teenager in front of him, while Ron was helpless with laughter. As the Headmaster tried to come up with some response to that, Ron's laughter turned into racking sobs.

"Let me see if I understand," Albus started. "You and the man put in charge of you drenched another man in beer, and then stripped him naked as he gave chase?"

Harry smiled and said, "Yes!"

"I was wrong. You're not impossible. You're insane."

* * *

Back in the common room, Harry and Ron were welcomed as heroes. Several people asked Harry how he managed to smuggle so much alcohol into the school. He gave vague hints and then wandered away from them. Dumbledore had threatened his hide if he helped the other students get drunk.

Hermione was, not surprisingly, giving the two of them the cold shoulder. She was one another righteous crusade to end morally despicable things in the world. It seemed she had yet to figure out that her two best friends were, simply, morally despicable.

Harry found Ginny sitting in a corner alone, and he decided it would not hurt to talk to her. Well, it would not hurt _much_. He sat down in one of the squishy armchairs across from her, and she smiled. Harry wondered what he was going to say. In his original fourth year, Harry had not paid much attention to Ginny, his best friend's younger sister. It had not been until his sixth year that he truly noticed her.

And he also knew quite a few things about her that he should not know. The location of her birthmark. Where she was ticklish. How to make her-

"What you did was really stupid, Harry," she said quietly. Harry snapped out of his thoughts to look at her. She was in her school robe, and sitting with a book in her lap. On closer inspection, Harry noticed that it was a fiction book, not a school text. "Mum was really upset."

Harry shrugged. "Just having fun." He leaned back in the chair and watched her. The longer he looked, the redder she turned. "While Ron is busy with his admiring fans, do you mind if I sit here?"

"Of course not. It's your common room, too."

Harry smiled softly. He did not know if he could ever start a relationship with her again. At that moment, she was thirteen and crushing on him. Harry just wasn't sure he could stomach another marriage to Ginny. She was a wonderful person, but Harry's image of her had been soured in his previous life.

They made small talk for a long time, until Ginny announced she had to go to bed. Harry bid her good night and made his way to his own dorm. As he collapsed onto his bed, he heard an eerie voice just near his ear whisper, "Hitting on my sister, Potter?"

Harry froze for half a moment, before he threw his fist out haphazardly and struck something human-like. "Bugger off, Ron!"

Ron laughed and jumped onto his own bed. "Good luck to you, mate. She's a handful."


	7. All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

**Chapter 7:****  
All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter  
**

A week or so later, Harry found himself in the Headmaster's office once more. Oddly, he was not there to be punished. He had asked to meet with Dumbledore to discuss Voldemort. If the old man was surprised by the topic, he hid it very well.

Harry was pacing the office absently, noting some of the trinkets he had once destroyed were resting in their proper places. "Voldemort is going to return soon," Harry said with conviction. "I know that. I am hoping he will come back the same way this time that he did last time. I don't much like surprises."

Dumbledore seemed to be in mood, because he was once more speaking in riddles. "Fate shines upon us as ever she will."

"What the flying _fuck_ does that mean? Are you on something?" demanded Harry. "I thought _I_ was crazy."

Harry would have sworn that the Headmaster actually smirked at him. It was such an un-Dumbledore-ish thing to do that Harry blinked several times. "I merely mean that things will happen as they will, and we will have to accept them as they come. You are a very skilled man, and I know you will be able to stay safe."

There was a moment when Harry considered sending Dumbledore to the loony bin. He gave serious consideration to the old man's sanity. "I'm talking about facing Voldemort, the _Dark Lord_, and you tell me you know I'll be safe. Tell me, Old Man, is God telling you these things directly, or is he talking to you through furry little creatures?"

"I'm not crazy," Dumbledore claimed. "I simply know that everything will work out."

"Of course. Say, if you're ever this sure about lottery numbers, will you let me know?" asked Harry. He rolled his eyes and stopped pacing in front of a particularly interesting object. "What is this?"

"Hmm." Dumbledore stood and moved around his desk and stood just behind Harry and slightly to the left and spoke softly as he said, "This is an old artifact. It belonged to my father, and I believe his father made it more than a century ago, before I was born. When activated, it can detect sincerity in the voice. I will admit that I turn it on occasionally when students are sent to talk to me."

"I broke this, in my fifth year. Threw it clear across the room. I remember the little mark, here." Harry couldn't help but duck his head, even though Dumbledore couldn't see his face. A gentle hand fell onto his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. That mark was my grandfather's signature, worn down over the decades. Even the best preservation charms degrade eventually. My grandfather, Wulfric Dumbledore, made a living creating interesting objects. It never made him rich, but it made him happy. He made several of the items in here. They were some of the few things left to the family by the time my mother died."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "I feel really bad now. I hope you weren't too angry with me for that."

"I can assure you that I was not, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Some of these things mean nothing to me."

Harry was silent for a moment before he said, "Voldemort is going to return at the end of this year. Are you ready?"

He heard Dumbledore draw a long breath. "As ready as I can be. Are you ready?"

"To do it all over again?" Harry said in almost a whine. "No. I'm too old for this shit."

The Headmaster let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

Ron and Harry braced themselves as they ascended the ladder to the Divination room. They had been planning to do something fantastic in that class, and they had finally built up the steam to do it.

Not courage, because they were Gryffindors and needed no help with courage.

No.

They finally built up the determination to stay awake throughout the entire lesson.

Harry entered the room first and bounded to the back of the room to get the best view. Ron joined him at the back table and they dropped their heads together to plan their attack. The class started and most of the students settled down. Seamus, however, was reading a dirty magazine. He didn't even bother hiding it under the table or behind a book.

Five minutes into the dreadful class, Harry used clever illusion charms to cause the area around Ron to darken. The air crackled and it looked like lightning flashed around him. His eyes turned white and he began speaking. His voice had deepened until the cadence made the windows rattle.

Ron recited the well rehearsed words. They had enjoyed the excuse to watch _Lord of the Rings_ several times.

Trelawney's face was a ridiculous mix of excitement and fear. When Ron returned to normal, he belched and settled down. He looked around with an expression of curiosity, noticing several people staring at him. "What?"

The professor went into a twenty minute rant that liberally applauded Ron and his use of the third eye of his chi, or whatever. Ron was asked to interpret his words. "I think… I think it means Harry and I need to go to the kitchens. I don't know why. I think something's going to happen there. We need to be there."

Just like that, Trelawney wrote them a note allowing them to spend the rest of the period in the kitchen.

After visiting with Dobby and eating sandwiches, the two teens went to Transfiguration. It seemed that word reached the professor before they got there. She gave them her sternest look. McGonagall did not say anything, but she called on Harry and Ron and inordinate number of times, asking them the hardest questions she could come up with.

In order to maintain their cover, they had to get_ some_ of them wrong. Because of that, McGonagall assigned them extra homework. Harry weighed the pros and cons, and decided that it had been worth it in the end.

January seamlessly morphed into February, and the Second Task loomed ever closer. Harry was not worried about that, though. He had promised to help Hagrid with his lesson plans, and due to an emergency delivery of a thestral mare, Hagrid had not been able to meet with him until the first week of the second month of the year.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged through the snow to Hagrid's hut, hardly able to wait for the roaring fire they knew awaited them. The hut was as it always was, and Hagrid was glad for their company.

They spent several hours discussing various magical creatures that the classes could study. Hermione was partial to hands-off classes, with emphasis on theory, preferably taught in a classroom.

Hagrid, however, refused outright to lecture in a classroom. He argued that if the creatures lived outside, they should be taught outside. Harry and Ron agreed, and thus outvoted Hermione. Lessons were set up for the rest of the year, with Hagrid only mildly disappointed with the lack of adventure in his classes.

They sat around drinking tea until dusk, when Hagrid ordered them back to the castle, a sparkle in his eye.

Saturday morning, Harry found himself in McGonagall's office, discussing various methods of transfiguration. She asked why he was curious, but Harry danced around an answer. He really wanted some ideas for the Second Task, but wanted to give her plausible deniability about helping him. She had very strict morals, after all.

The middle of the month slowly approached, and the castle was filled with a tension that gave Harry a headache. To alleviate this stress, Harry walked around the hall singing from class to class. People shot him annoyed looks when he suddenly turned toward them and bellowed lyrics.

They tended to call him rude.

Harry referred to himself as 'moderately inebriated'.

The morning of the Second Task was cold and wet. Ron and Hermione had gone 'missing' in the night, and Harry distantly wondered if Ron had put up a fight. He entertained himself on his way to breakfast by imagining just what Ron would have said when the situation was explained to him.

As usual, Harry ate more than a human's share of food for breakfast. He could not explain what made him so hungry all the time, but since returning to the past, Harry felt the urge to eat constantly.

It was much colder out by the lake than in the castle. Harry stood waiting for the task to begin, and watched the other champions. Cedric looked determined, but he seemed to be talking to himself under his breath. Fleur looked a little pale, with just the slightest tinge of green. Viktor looked the most normal of them, with his dark eyes gazing over the lake.

The clock began ticking, and the crowd cheered wildly. The other three instantly did their bits of magic and went forth into the water. Harry stood on the shore and waited until the jeers and taunt became truly nasty.

Fred and George, who had quite a bit of money on Harry, yelled the loudest. Harry turned to face them, giving them a stern look. "Have faith," he ordered.

With dramatic flourish learned from years of politicking and entertaining, Harry swung back around to the lake and lifted both arms to shoulder level. He closed his eyes and did his best to concentrate.

Transfiguring water was a complicated task, especially if one did not intend to transfigure _all_ of the water. Harry caused some of the water to turn into a very long slab of rock that sat flush the water level and reached clear across the lake. Harry placed the backs of his hands together in front of him, and then sharply moved them about a foot apart.

The thick sheet of rock split in two and separated, slowly making a dry pathway across the lake by separating the water.

He chose to transfigure the water into rock instead of just parting the water because the transfiguration did not require constant concentration. Ron was in the middle of the lake, awake because he was no longer submerged.

Ron freed himself of his restraints and began a walk back to the bank. When he reached Harry, he clapped him on the back. Harry released the transfiguration and turned to the judges and gave a dramatic bow. Bagman announced, "And Harry Potter finishes in five minutes."

When the task was over, Harry was awarded a perfect score. That put him way ahead of the other three.

Harry and Ron entered the Gryffindor common room after the task was over, and found that it was full to bursting with Gryffindors waiting to celebrate. Never one to let a part go to waste, Harry and Ron dashed up to their dorm, grabbed a couple of bottles, and returned to the crowd for a wild night of partying.

The next morning in the Great Hall, most of the Gryffindors looked tired, and rather hung over. Harry and Ron, fresh as daisies, entered with a bounce in their step. "Hello, Gryffindors!" Harry called as he past. "What a beautiful, bright, sunshiny day!"

That several dozen people were giving him dark looks did not faze Harry at all. "Why are you not sick?" Dean demanded.

Harry looked back over his shoulder at him. "Alas, young grasshopper, you will learn."

"I hate you."

Harry continued down the table, earning himself more angry stares. "You know, I'm feeling a little unappreciated. Y'all were more than happy last night. Especially you, Parvati," Harry said with a leering look. Parvati blushed brilliantly and giggled.

"Mr. Potter, what is going on here?" McGonagall asked, having snuck up on him.

"Well, I damn near just wet myself. Why would you do that to me?" Harry asked. "And why are you here? You're in my way a bit."

"Pardon me?" the professor asked dangerously.

"Oh!" Harry said, his eyes lighting up with realization. "You're old, I forgot." Harry then yelled, "You're in my way!"

Fred and George, who were sitting close by, were staring in gobsmacked horror. "Harry's going to die," Fred whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.

"We'll give him a hero's burial," George added solemnly.

McGonagall remained surprisingly calm. She continued to stare down at Harry for several moments. "No offense, but you look like a cat in heat about to pounce. If I had some innocence, I'd fear for it right about now."

"Have you been drinking?" McGonagall asked.

"Can I get a time frame on that question? Like, do you mean in the last ten minutes? Or the-"

"Go to my office, Potter," McGonagall ordered.

"Fearing for my innocence as I do, there is no way that I, as a perfectly defenseless child, enter an office with you, without a third party, to protect my-"

"Now, Potter. Why don't you quit while you're ahead?"

Harry began slowly walking backward, away from the professor. "I can't remember the last time I _was_ ahead. I remember the last time I _got_ head -Hi, Parvati- but not-"

"POTTER!" McGonagall yelled, losing her cool.

"WHAT?" Harry replied in kind from twenty feet away.

"Get out of here before I hex your testicles off!" snapped McGonagall.

Harry nearly tripped in shock. "Oh, you're a _cold_ bitch." Harry turned and began walking from the hall in earnest. "See if I ever send my kids to _this_ nuthouse. This place is full of psychos, murderers, and angry lesbians."

In McGonagall's office, Harry sat on the desk, meditating. When the Deputy Headmistress walked in, she said, "If I didn't _know_ what is wrong with you, I would have you committed, Potter. You're a damn fool, you know that."

"This angry talk is turning me on," Harry commented without opening his eyes.

"The Headmaster is furious," McGonagall continued, ignoring Harry's words.

"The Headmaster is unaccustomed the people around him expressing free will," Harry said. "You seem to have forgotten that I was a co-ruler of all of the magical people of Great Britain less than a year ago. The Headmaster and I are both used to getting our way and not being questioned. Until recently, I was in shock. I never expected to see Dumbledore again. He was my hero when I was a kid. I idolized him. But as I grew up, I learned he had flaws just like anyone else. But then I came back, and he was Dumbledore. Part of me still saw him as a hero."

"And that feeling has left?"

"Oh yeah. I've got dirt on him, now."

McGonagall told him to stop acting like an idiot and send him to his next class.

February slid away and turned to March, reminding Harry that Voldemort was that much closer to returning.

Fred and George had heard the story of Harry and Sirius pranking Remus and had decided to try out something similar. Breakfast one morning soon after the second task, Harry was sitting next to Ron and talking about quidditch. They were up very early, earlier than most, and only a few other people were eating. In fact, half the staff and three Ravenclaws were in the hall, but no one else.

Harry's head snapped up when he heard a scream. Two seventh year Slytherins, a couple, had walked into the hall. As they did so, all of their clothing vanished. Several Slytherins that had been a few steps behind them rushed forward to help, but their clothes disappeared as well.

Snape and McGonagall quickly conjured clothing for the students. Harry tried to turn to Ron, but someone grabbed his arm and ripped him out of his seat.

Before Harry could protest the painful grip, he was being forced from the hall. Dumbledore dragged Harry into an empty room and slammed the door behind them.

Harry had seen Albus Dumbledore angry before, but it had never truly been directed at him. He felt four years old as the Headmaster towered over him, clearly enraged.

"What were you thinking?" Dumbledore demanded. His voice actually shook as he spoke.

"I- What?" Harry asked.

"I cannot believe you would do such a thing!" Dumbledore began pacing back and forth and he glared at Harry as often as possible. "This is completely irresponsible! I am ashamed of you!"

"Sir!" Harry said, stepping back in shock. "I didn't do this!"

Dumbledore sharply turned and took several steps toward him. "I am not a stupid man. You have finally gone too far! You'll be expelled for this."

The man said it so coldly and with so much conviction that Harry believed him for a split second. Then his own anger flared. "I didn't do this!" he snapped. "And I'm surprised you would jump to this conclusion. If you'll excuse me, I have to get away from you."

Dumbledore was not going to back down easily. "Do not lie to me. I do recall you telling me of a prank you pulled on Remus that was quite like what you just did in the hall. How could you? Do you know what you've done? You've utterly humiliated several other children. You crossed a line. To do such a thing… You must really be depraved."

Harry had heard enough. "I didn't do it!" he bellowed. "And until you figure that out, stay away from me!"

He stormed from the room and went straight to his dorm. He threw open his trunk and searched for anything to make him feel better. The word 'ashamed' ran through his mind so relentlessly that Harry could not remember where he hid his stash.

"Fuck," he snapped as he began throwing objects from his trunk. When that didn't unearth anything, Harry dove under his bed and looked there. He heard the bell for the first class of the day, but ignored it as he discovered a flask of tequila, the last ounces of a bottle that had cost him well over a hundred pounds, and had caused Aberforth some frustration to find.

He unscrewed the cap and drained the flask.

Ron hurried through the crowded halls, pushing people out of his way as he went. Harry had not been in Charms, and that was quite unusual. Ron had been surprised when Dumbledore had hauled Harry out of the Great Hall that morning. Dumbledore did not usually jump to conclusions, especially not about Harry.

As he had feared, Harry was drunkenly punching a heavy punching back that he had conjured in the middle of the room. The room was trashed, and there was a half-empty bottle by Harry's foot.

Ron had been through this before. Harry all but completely broke down when Ginny divorced him.

Albus sat slumped in his chair in his sitting room. Minerva was sitting feet away from him, staring coldly. She had not spoken or moved for thirty minutes. Albus could not be positive that she had blinked.

"Will you please just call me an idiot and tell me how to fix this?" Albus asked.

"You're an _idiot_," Minerva snapped. "But I will not tell you how to fix this. The things you said to him. . . I will be surprised if he ever forgives you. Why did you accuse him without any proof? Evidence? Without talking to him?" Minerva continued before Albus could open his mouth. She plowed on with, "Of all of the times to lose your temper for the first time in decades, you chose then? _Then_?"

When Fred and George Weasley heard that their Headmaster had accused Harry, they immediately turned themselves in to Minerva.

Albus dropped his eyes to the fireplace. It was well after dinner, and Harry had not been heard from all day. Ron had disappeared after his first class that morning and not reappeared.

"And you know what Potter is doing now," Minerva continued. "He is drunk and brooding. Weasley is attempting damage control. And the entire world now sees you as a stupid brute. How do you feel about that?"

Miserable.

Albus caught up to Harry in the hall the next morning before breakfast. The teen looked haggard. His eyes were red and the skin around them was purpled from lack of sleep.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday, Harry. It was inexcusable. I overreacted and managed to hurt you in the process. I am sorry."

Albus quickly walked away, exhaling deeply as he rounded a corner. He felt like an utter loser. He had been faced with Harry and had panicked. It had been impossible for him to sleep the night before. He had watched his memory of the morning before a dozen times.

Being old and wise, Albus did not often have to admit that he was wrong. For him to be so wrong about something left a bad taste in his mouth.

Harry walked into the common room after dinner and sat on one of the comfy chairs.

"Hey, Harry-" Ron's words were drowned out by what seemed like an explosion.

It took several moments for Harry to orient himself, but he soon realized that there was at least two dozen bludgers rocketing around the common room. Harry tried to get them under control, but a spell had been placed on them to repel most magic.

Many older students, therefore, undertook the task of manually stopping the magical cannonballs.

It took a while, but the bludgers were confined in a magically-locked trunk. The common room was in shambles, and quite a few Gryffindors had mild to moderate injuries.

The Hospital Wing was filled soon after. There were several broken bones and bloody noses and bruises. Harry tried to explain the situation to Madam Pomfrey, who furiously flooed the Headmaster.

The man stepped through with a look of anger that he rarely wore in front of students. He traded several words with Pomfrey, and then turned to Harry. His expression melted into a warm look, apparently out of reflex.

"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked, as he stepped toward the teen. He seemed to realize that Harry might be angry with him, so he slowed and looked into Harry's eyes. "Are you in any pain?"

"No sir," Harry answered. He felt a hot surge of anger rush up his spine, but he forced it down. He had decided to let go of his anger toward the man; he had bigger things to be mad at the Headmaster over. To lessen the wary look in the blue eyes that were staring at him, Harry smiled. "Just a few broken ribs."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I think we will have to discuss the meaning of 'alright' sometime in the future, Harry. Who did this, son?"

Harry shrugged, and with a wicked grin said, "I don't know, sir. I don't like to jump to conclusions about such things."

Dumbledore gave him a half-stern, half-sad look. "I will look into this. There is much too much carnage to let this go without punishment. Say, Harry, you didn't do this, did you?"

"I am going to slap you."

"Just checking."

Ron's birthday also happened to be the day that the Headmaster discovered that there was a small, fanatical group of Slytherins responsible for the bludger incident. Their ringleader, a fifth year named Albert Mosley, was suspended for a week. The other six were given a month of detention.

Fred and George had been suspended and assigned detention and made to apologize to the entire Slytherin house. It had been quite a spectacle. Fred and George had finished each other's sentences, and made the whole incident seem like the Slytherin's fault.

Harry got Ron a ten year subscription to a kinky porn magazine for his birthday. Feeling a bit mean, he let Ron open the present in the Great Hall, right after the owl delivered it to him. Apparently even the cover, a woman in a skimpy leather outfit, was too much for poor Ron. He screeched and threw the magazine.

Seamus snatched the offending item and laughed madly. "Do you know who this is? She left Hogwarts last year; she was a Ravenclaw Prefect!"

"No!" Dean yelled, grabbing the magazine from Seamus with gleaming eyes. "Oh sweet lord, it is. I remember her!"

McGonagall swooped down upon him like an angry nun during mass. "Hand over that filth now, Thomas. I swear if you so much as open that, I will-" The professor stopped dead with a hand over her mouth. "That _is_ Danielle!" she gasped.

Harry leaned over the table and said, "Says she goes by 'Madam Passion' now." Harry sincerely did not expect to be slapped across the back of his head. So when it happened, he squeaked and recoiled. "Hey. Not nice."

"You are not nice, Mr. Potter," she snapped. "Go to class, before I decide to beat you to death with a plate."

"Aye, aye." Harry stood and moved several paces toward the door when he turned and said, "Of course, you might want to talk to someone about this unnatural anger, and- Oh my god!" Harry took off running as McGonagall used her wand to send a plate at him.

The rest of the day was spent joking and laughing. Harry was more than excited that he was able to celebrate his best friend's fifteenth birthday again. The first one hadn't been that great.

The day ended in the dorm, with Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville throwing a party for Ron. It was two in the morning when the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall entered. They looked at Neville and Seamus, who were wrestling, and at Dean, who was cheering them on, and Harry, who was tending bar, and Ron, who was taking a shot.

McGonagall looked to the Headmaster and said, "So, Albus, which do we make a prefect next year? In fact, I'll leave it up to you. Goodnight."

After she left, Dumbledore looked at the boys, who were all frozen in place, staring at him. Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, "Did you think this wasn't expected?"

"Um."

"You will all write me an essay on… Harry, name a topic you have not written an essay on for me."

"Um. Well. Maturity?" Harry suggested.

"Maturity, then. On my desk Monday morning. Is that understood, boys?"

"Yes, sir," the chorused.

Dumbledore nodded and walked out the door.

It was several days later that Hermione received a shock. There was an article in _Witch Weekly_ about her. She was lambasted as a harlot. And her parents had been spied on, and her room invaded. There was a detailed description of her bedroom at her home, and it made her out to be a nut.

"Of course I don't have magical items in my room! My family is muggle! Oh, I could just _picture_ the look on my Aunt Gina's face if she saw a spellbook on my desk."

Harry nodded. "It's true. There's no magical crap laying around my room at the Dursley's."

"See!" Hermione said. "Oh, god. Harry, there's an article here on your room. And Ron's, as well. Actually, she couldn't definitely tell which room was Harry's. There's a master bedroom, his cousin's room, and two guest rooms. And Ron, the orange is blinding."

"Orange is a great color!" defended Ron.

"Where is your bedroom, Harry?" Dean asked. "Why couldn't that cow find it?"

Harry took a bite of waffle and said, "I borrow one of the guest rooms during the summer."

"Good lord, Harry, you make it sound like your family doesn't like you."

Harry stared Neville. "You're putting words in my mouth, Neville. I never called them my family."

Before Neville could puzzle that out, Parvati and Lavender walked up to her. They stood across the table from her with their arms across in front of them, and weight thrown on to one hip. Harry recognized that from his daughter. He read the look as 'We're angry little teenage girls'.

"What, are you ashamed of being a witch or something?" Parvati demanded.

"Yeah, Granger."

"There are _laws _regarding leaving magical items around muggles. I'm following the _law_," Hermione snapped.

"The law doesn't matter, Granger. You're ashamed of being a witch."

Hermione stood up and started for the door. "This is ridiculous."

The two girls followed. "Well, what is it, Granger? Are you ashamed?"

Hermione stopped and whirled on her. "Did it ever occur to you, you twat, that muggles may hate witches? That if my family found out about me, they would _hate_ me? My uncle is a minister in our church. You've heard of muggles burning witches at the stake? That's him. He would do that. So, no, I am not ashamed; I am cautious. Now _back off_!"

Harry surreptitiously waved his wand and caused the two girls to fall flat on their faces. Hermione stormed off as students laughed at Parvati and Lavender.

The next morning, owls flooded the hall to deliver mail to Hermione. Most people were shocked that she would hide her heritage. There was a general outpouring of anger. Hermione held her head high, however.

Talk at dinner that night turned to quidditch. With an international quidditch star in their midst, there was a sharp divide in opinion. Some people sucked up by favoring Bulgaria, but Colin was not to be dissuaded.

"Harry Potter is the best seeker in the world," the young Gryffindor said. "He makes Viktor Krum look like a ninny."

Colin's not-yet-deep voice travelled around the room, silencing everyone. That Viktor was sitting next to Harry, and therefore not far from Colin did not help.

"A ninny?" Viktor asked. "Vell, ve shall see! Harry Potter, I challenge you to a Seeker's Duel!"

All eyes were on Harry. He had a spoon of oatmeal in his mouth, and slowly turned to look at Ron, who looked faint. "Very well. I accept. When?" Madam Hooch was suddenly behind them. "Holy _shit_, woman, were you even in the hall a minute ago?" Harry demanded.

"That is of no concern, Potter. I am the resident quidditch expert here. Nobody flies unless I greenlight it. As you both know, the quidditch pitch is off-limits for the time being."

"Vell, I am sure that I could find another pitch to use. I haff some connections."

"Right! I will arrange it with the Headmaster," she said. She bustled off toward the staff table.

"Is there something wrong vith her?" Viktor asked.

"Quidditch fanatic."

"Oh."

The upcoming Seeker's Duel further divided the school. Dumbledore told Harry that McGonagall had brought him a pair of arguing students that had escalated to violence- in McGonagall's classroom.

Mid April brought the Duel. Dumbledore escorted Viktor and Harry to the English National Pitch. It was larger than the Hogwarts pitch, but smaller than the World Cup.

There were several reporters and Ministry personnel present. Harry turned to Viktor and said, "Gee, can't two famous blokes have a moment of privacy?"

The Bulgarian smirked at him, his heavy brows drawn together in amusement.

A Seeker's Duel was a game often played by seekers, or used in Quidditch try-outs. It consisted of releasing a snitch and two bludgers, and the first seeker to catch the snitch won. It was exactly like Quidditch, without beaters, chasers, keepers, or a Quaffle. Even so, it had a tendency to last much longer than a full game. The snitch seemed to know it was the center of attention, and therefore played it up.

The two seekers walked out to the center of the pitch, almost feeling the heat of flashbulbs on them as they did so. The stadium was no where near full. For security reasons, the public was not allowed to attend. Dumbledore, who was sitting near Arthur Weasley, made sure of that.

Madam Hooch, who was to monitor the duel, walked up to them. Both were flying Firebolts, so they were evenly matched. She looked between them and nodded sharply. "This will be interesting. Potter, no dirty tricks. Krum, try to look a little happy. Ready? Good!"

The witch raised her gloved hand, which held the golden snitch, and released it. The three of them mounted brooms and took off. While the outcome was exciting, most of a Seeker's Duel was very boring.

The bout between Harry and Viktor lasted six hours. Several times, they had seen the snitch and made for it, but had been thrown off by the other. In the end, they both dove for the ground where they could see the little golden ball that spelled victory. However, Harry was smaller and lighter than Viktor, and he travelled much faster. His fingers wrapped around the snitch with Viktor half a broom length behind him.

They clapped each other on the back, smiling. Pictures were taken and questions asked. The two seekers eventually broke away and returned to Dumbledore, who was smiling widely.

"Well, I must admit, that was a bit of a surprise!" the old Headmaster said. "Sorry to say it, Harry, but I would have put money on Viktor."

Harry pouted, but smiled when Viktor stuck his tongue out at him. It was refreshing to see the famous, surly seeker acting a bit childish. Dumbledore smiled again and held out a Portkey. "This will take you to the hospital wing. There are showers there you may use, and feel free to rest up a bit before you face your admirers." He sent them off with a wink.

By the time the two made it to the Great Hall, there were showered and rested. Entering the hall, they were bombarded with a quadrillion questions. Most were shocked that Harry had won, but Colin felt vindicated. Harry looked him in the eye and said, "It's good to have friends like you, Colin. Thank you."

Colin was ecstatic to be called Harry's friend. He nearly skipped away.

The time soon came for Bagman to show the Champions what the Third Task was going to be. Harry kept his competition behind after Bagman left to discuss a plan of attack. He told them that he had overheard some professors talking about what was to be in the maze, and that he had a better idea.

They agreed to his plan, and they all left. When Krum asked to talk to Harry, as he had the first time, Harry went with him to the edge of the forest. Barty Crouch Sr. appeared and went on ranting and rambling. Harry sent his patronus to Dumbledore and watched it gallop off. Viktor stared at him in shock.

"What, did you think I was just a pretty face?"

Dumbledore arrived just a few moments later. He escorted Crouch away and gave Harry a significant look.

He met the old man in his office hours later. "Please, have a seat. How you managed to get in here without the password and the door locked is a secondary concern, I suppose," Dumbledore said. "That was a wonderful patronus, Harry. Truly fantastic. Barty Crouch has been taken to St. Mungos for the time being. He will be closely monitored. What is going on?"

Harry looked around and then back to the Headmaster. "I don't think that is the best idea, sir. Some things have to happen the right way. Big events depend on it."

Dumbledore gave him a long look, and then stood up and moved around his desk. He sat on the edge in front of Harry and then leaned forward. Harry leaned back in his chair, not sure if the old man was really upset or not. "Harry, child, you should know that I do not enjoy not knowing what is going on around me. I will put it this way. I will not act on anything you tell me, as I will trust your judgment. And, if you do not tell me in the next five seconds… I will curse you."

"What _kind_ of curse?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's answer had him spilling his guts. He told the whole sordid story. "You mean to tell me that the Alastor Moody I have trusted since September is _not_ Moody?" demanded Dumbledore. "And you knew? And you didn't tell me?"

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was actually a little angry. "Well, sir, like I said, Ron and I decided that we need things to be as close to the first timeline as possible. I'm sorry about that, sir. It's not like we don't trust you, or anything. Just, the less people that know, the less chance of something going wrong. We wanted- Will you stop looking at me like that?" Harry asked. Dumbledore was giving him a disappointed look.

"Oh, alright, fine," Dumbledore said. He stood in front of the fireplace and summoned small bottle of whiskey, uncorked it, and drank it straight. "I can not believe that there has been a Death Eater in my school for months and I did not know. I feel like a fool. I have not felt this stupid in a long time."

"Since you blew up the table with your father's wand?" Harry asked with mock sympathy.

Dumbledore's head snapped around to him, and then the old man growled, "Aberforth."

For the next month, it seemed as if the only thing anyone could talk about was the final task. People speculated, and bets were placed, and fights were started.

Minerva McGonagall sat in the staff room one night with many other professors. They were mostly grading papers and talking. She was explaining her reasoning behind Harry Potter's outstanding performance in the tournament. None of the other professors could explain his sudden leap in academic skill.

She couldn't very well tell them he was actually 58; they would commit her.

She was just then grading the fourth year's papers, and she came to Harry's. They students had been told to choose their own topic, and Potter had chosen '100 ways to use transfiguration in a duel to the death'. Minerva shook her head and sighed.

"Potter has simply seen the light, I suppose. He knows now that wizardry is not all matchsticks to needles, and that he must apply himself. Albus had a very stern talk with the boy about maturity, and it must have stuck. Well, you know, he is still just fourteen. And he is his father's son."

"Not a comment, Severus," Pomona said fiercely. She had taken quite a liking to Harry after he had stood up for an unnamed student, going so far as to risking his life. A Hufflepuff to the core, she greatly admired such loyalty. And Harry was a very likeable boy. "James was only ever terrible to you out of jealousy. It was easy to see he fancied Lily from the word _go_. And you two were quite close."

Severus made a face. "So once more, we write off James Potter's arrogance as okay. Lovely." The angry man stood and left the room. Before the door closed, Albus stepped through with a cheery greeting.

He sat next to her, as was his custom, and asked how everyone was doing. They responded as they usually did. "It seems a Mister Johnson and a Mister Vorhees have been sent to the Hospital wing, Filius. They are, of course, to be given detention for fistfighting, correct?"

"Of course, Albus," Filius said easily. "Though their reasons were particularly interesting. It amazes me still, after all these years, how no student is ever at fault. Simply misunderstood."

Albus smiled. "If the students were as innocent as they made themselves out to be, Hogwarts would be a much less interesting place. Of course, I remember years and years ago, when a student or three decided to sneak out to Hogsmeade in the middle of the night. Right into the pub owned by the Deputy Headmaster's brother."

"That's quite enough, Albus," Minerva said primly. Pomona Sprout and Rolonda Hooch were blushing.

"I think that it is natural for people to blame others. It is very hard to accept responsibility," Albus said, giving the three women a look.

"Alright!" Pomona said. "We did it. But it was Minerva's idea!"

"Hey!"

Albus smiled at them. "It only took fifty years to get a confession. Don't you feel better now?" He did not wait for an answer as he continued the conversation. He explained the protocol for the Third Task, and asked several teachers to act as minders.

The professor's feelings leading up to the final task were mixed. Some felt excited, while some felt worried. There was no denying the thrum of excitement in the air as the day drew closer.

Albus kept his own reservations to himself. He knew that Voldemort was going to attempt to return to his body during the Third Task. He knew that Harry would have to fight him. Albus had every confidence in Harry and his ability, but he still got a rush of fear up his spine every time he thought of the boy facing down Voldemort.

Harry woke early the morning of the Third Task. He had a lot of plans to set in motion.

Cedric Diggory marched toward the quidditch pitch with determination. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. If all went to plan, Cedric would soon be an undisputed winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Fleur Delacour swept to the Hogwarts pitch with grace and poise. Her stomach fluttered with unease as she thought of the deal she had struck. Underhandedness and deception were foreign to her. Unlike most people like her, she usually got what she wanted through hard work and persistence. Not to mention more than a little skill. But, if all went to plan, Fleur would soon be an undisputed winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Viktor Krum stomped to the Third Task. Being famous had made him cynical at a relatively young age. He trusted few, and it had served him well. The accord he had agreed to was something he would never have done, if he did not trust his friend implicitly. If all went to plan, Viktor would soon be an undisputed winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Harry Potter damn-near skipped toward the Maze. He had eaten too much sugar at breakfast.

Albus Dumbledore watched the four young people before him as they stared at the maze with fierce looks. He stomach was in knots, but as always, he plastered a serene smile on his face as he prepared to watch the students enter what Harry had told him could be a death trap.

The whistle sounded, and Harry did nothing. Cedric was released to enter, and he also did nothing. Same went for Fleur and Viktor.

However, on Harry's nod they all moved to a separate corner of the maze and raised their wands. "_Incendio_!" they chorused.

It took a few different spells, but in a matter of moments, the maze that had been so carefully crafted was reduced to ash. The creatures that had been painstakingly placed inside early that morning were loosed, sending the crowd into a mild panic.

A mighty sphinx was hard enough to deal with without it being annoyed by screams. The four champions, however, quickly and efficiently dealt with the beasts using combined rope spells.

All that was left was the cup, in more or less the center of the ash pile. The four champions approached and stared at the culmination of their efforts. Harry raised his wand, and with a loud _bang_, the Cup split into four pieces.

As one, they reached to the piece closest to them.

Fleur was ecstatic. Harry had promised that she would win, if she helped him. He had been right. She felt a tie was reasonable; it beat coming in last.

Harry reached for his bit of the cup. He struggled to pull all of the portkey magic into his slice. It had been hard to convince the other three that the Cup would have to be broken. The thought had offended them at first. But, if they all grabbed it straight away, all four would have been led to the graveyard.

He had wanted to get the maze part of the night over with as quickly as possible; Harry wanted to preserve all of his energy for Voldemort.

Cedric looked down at the four pieces as they reached for them. He noticed something right away that he didn't like. Harry was reaching for the largest. Well. . .

Viktor caught a dark look passing over Diggory's eyes, and he followed them to Potter's hand. Hey, Potter was reaching for the biggest piece. How was he to know whether or not the person that picked up the _most_ of the Cup wasn't the winner? Potter could have deceived them after all.

Albus watched in confusion as, quite suddenly, Cedric and Viktor reached for the same piece Harry was aiming for. In a flash, three hands had latched on.

The last thing that was heard before the three boys were whisked away was Harry yelling, "Idiots!"


	8. Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

**Chapter 8**  
**Not All Who Wander Are Lost**

Harry's feet slammed into the ground and his head soon followed. In all of his years, he had not mastered portkey-travel. Cedric and Viktor had followed him. Now he didn't have to worry about Peter killing his friend.

He had to worry about Peter killing his friend, _and_ an international quidditch phenomenon.

"Where are we?" Cedric asked, rounding on Harry. "Is this some trick? You were trying to get all the glory yourself, weren't you?"

"No, dumbfuck," Harry snapped. "Take your wand out, be alert. Where did the portkey go?"

They looked for it by the light of their wands, all the while Harry worried about someone seeing the lit wands and killing them where they stood. "How did you know?" Viktor asked.

"I'll tell you later. Trust me, if we live, you will deserve to know."

Neither of them liked that answer much.

Before the found the piece of cup, Harry heard Peter Pettigrew shuffling toward them. Harry turned around, slowly.

It was like being in one of his nightmares. He had replayed this in his dreams for months after Cedric had been murdered. He suddenly found himself actually living it again. For all of his mental preparation, he wasn't near prepared for the shock of it all being so real.

Wormtail had the same bundle in his hands; the Dark Lord.

Voldemort ordered Wormtail to kill Cedric and Viktor, not by name of course.

Harry pushed to two boys out of the way of the deadly curses. They made it their goal in life to find the portkey after seeing killing curses tossed about. Harry traded curses with his father's former friend for several minutes. Harry could have taken out Wormtail, but it was, sadly, too soon to kill Voldemort. Harry actually had no idea how to kill spirit-like beings. Humans were much simpler to destroy.

"I'm trying, Master!" Wormtail whined as Voldemort commanded him to kill Harry. "He's just so… Gah!" The pudgy man had to dodge a particularly violent curse. His task was made harder by the fact that he had to hold Voldemort securely, and heaven forbid the Dark Lord be made uncomfortable for even a moment, regardless of Wormtail's predicament.

"Try hitting him," Cedric hissed from behind a tombstone. Harry was about to snap at the Hufflepuff, when Wormtail ducked behind another tombstone.

"Does nobody have a spine anymore?" Harry demanded of no one in particular. "Come out and fight, you pathetic little rodent."

Harry spotted the portkey and used his hand to send it to the dirt in front of his two friends. They looked up at him in confusion. He waved them off and nodded to the Cup.

Viktor shook his head.

Harry glared at him.

Cedric shook his head firmly.

Harry raised his wand.

Viktor and Cedric dove for the Cup.

Harry strode toward the headstone behind which Pettigrew cowered. "Damn, Tom, even when you get the Gryffindors, they're cowards. What is with you?"

Cedric's feet connected with the earth, and he was instantly surrounded by people. His father was chief among them, demanding to know what had happened.

Shoving them away, Cedric sought out the one person he knew both he and Harry could trust. Dumbledore.

Viktor seemed to be of the same mind, as he was also looking at the grand sorcerer.

Dumbledore's face was twisted with worry. Cedric had never seen him so ruffled. Then again, he had never seen Dumbledore when Harry had gone after Quirrel, or the Chamber of Secrets, so he had no comparison.

The Headmaster made his way to them swiftly, parting the crowd with little effort. He took each of them gently by a shoulder and led them away from prying ears.

"Hello, boys," he said softly. "I think you understand what I am most concerned about now."

"Sir, Harry-"

"We'll get to him in a moment, Cedric. At the moment, I am most concerned about your welfare. Are you injured? Anything wrong at all? Please be honest," the old man said. He looked them both in the eyes as they shook their heads. "Very good. I am profoundly glad for that. Now I must ask after Harry."

"Sir, there was a man, and he was holding something."

Dumbledore nodded and replied, "That man was Peter Pettigrew. He was holding the disembodied spirit of Lord Voldemort."

Cedric flinched on instinct, and then cringed violently. He turned to Viktor, who had gone pale, and hissed, "We left Harry with Voldemort! He could be hurt!"

Viktor nodded slowly, and then raised his dark eyes to look at Cedric directly. "I think that Harry knew vot he vos doing, Cedric. He vos adamant that we break the Cup. He vanted to take the piece vith the portkey. He knew that you and I had to leave. Harry was avare of vot he vos getting in to. Am I right, Headmaster?"

It was Dumbledore's turn to nod. "Harry planned the whole thing. We have gathered intelligence that Voldemort was going to do something of this nature. I am very sorry you were dragged along. That was not supposed to happen."

"That vos our own greed," Viktor said, a hint of disgust in his voice. "Ve vanted the biggest piece."

"I'm sorry," Cedric said coldly, "I'm still stuck on the bit where we left a fourteen year old kid to deal with _You-Know-Who_!" He looked at Dumbledore with reproach. "How could you?"

They Headmaster sighed, and his eyes flickered to the ground for a brief moment. "If you were to observe Harry and I, you would notice that our relationship is not a normal Headmaster-student relationship. He is very much like a son to me. Knowingly sending him to face Voldemort was not easy for me. In fact, I did not want him to do it. Harry, however, convinced me."

"A fourteen year old kid convinced you?" Cedric demanded. Albus wondered where the kind, somewhat shy Hufflepuff had gone. He had been replaced by a raging thunderstorm. "What, are you the world's biggest pushover?"

Cedric was surprised that the Headmaster did not reprimand him then. The old man simply closed his eyes for a moment. "I will explain everything to you when Harry returns. I give you my word. Now, I need you both to go to the hospital wing. I am sure your families would like to see you. Please, do not speak of what you have seen just yet."

Hardly comforted, the two teens trudged to the infirmary.

Albus turned to look at the worried faces of his staff. Well, Severus did not look worried. Just bored.

Albus was going to say something to them, but there was a flash of light behind him that drew his attention.

Harry, roaring in pain and rage, was standing not ten feet from Albus. He was holding a very large man, who was shaking and sobbing, by the collar. Harry looked around at the crowd, before his eyes settled on Albus.

Albus gathered all of the important players in his office. Harry, Harry's hostage, the Minister, the Minister's posse, Remus, a rather large and scruffy dog, Minerva, and Severus.

"Who is this man?" Fudge asked.

"This is Peter Pettigrew," Harry answered swiftly. He held up his hand to stave off the Minister's protestations. "He was not killed all those years ago. He is, in fact, an animagus. Peter Pettigrew is responsible for the deaths that Sirius Black was blamed for."

"Preposterous! The Ministry would not make such a mistake!" the flustered Fudge stormed.

Harry smiled charmingly. "Minister, I did not say the Ministry was at fault. The incident was surprisingly well thought out by Pettigrew. And the atmosphere of the time made things difficult. Any rational person would have thought Sirius guilty. Hell, even Albus Dumbledore did. The Ministry did its best, of that I am sure. But it would look good for the Ministry to admit its error, and correct it accordingly."

Fudge gave Harry a penetrating look. "The public would think the Ministry makes mistakes."

"And it doesn't? Mistakes don't reflect poorly on the government; failing to correct them does. People do not appreciate being lied to. And it would not be required for the Ministry to take any blame at all."

Fudge did not want his government to look bad. But, Harry was giving him an out. The administration did not have to take the blame, after all. It was a miscommunication. And if Sirius Black came out in favor of the Ministry. . .

"I need to be convinced of this man's identity. I will not overturn a conviction without proof."

Severus stepped forward. "I carry several truth serums on me at all times. As you know, Minister, I am the designated potion master for the Wizengamot."

"This appears biased, Professor Snape," Fudge said, looking between Snape and Harry.

"Please," Severus said, almost rolling his eyes. "I hate Sirius Black, and I hate Harry Potter. I merely wish to serve the interest of justice."

"Now, hold on," Fudge said, shaking his head. "I don't want to be pointing fingers, but given your… colorful past, Professor. . ."

Harry stepped forward. "Snape's past as a Death Eater is not relevant," he snapped. "And it is insulting for you to bring it up. If you are still reluctant, I will volunteer to test the potion."

Severus gave Harry a surprised look. "Well then, Potter, here." He handed Harry a vial of clear liquid. "Three drops."

Once administered, everyone looked at each other, wondering who should ask a question. Severus' eyes lit up. "Did you steal ingredients from my private stores two years ago?"

"No," Harry answered. Severus deflated quite a bit.

"Did you sneak into Hogsmeade last year?" Remus asked.

"No," Harry replied. Remus' eyebrows shot up.

Albus smirked internally. Last year, Harry had been fifty-seven years old, and in no need of sneaking anywhere.

"Mr. Potter," Albus said, "did you witness anything spectacular tonight?"

"Yes."

"Did you witness the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes."

Albus smirked. "Mr. Potter, are you a virgin?"

"No." Remus' eyes widened comically, and if one looked closely, they could see the dog's mouth hanging open.

"Mr. Potter, in the last twelve months, have you consumed alcohol?"

"Yes."

"Have you cheated on any tests or homework?"

"Yes."

"Have you snuck off castle grounds in the last year?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever lied to me?"

"Yes."

"In January, did you get yourself suspended on purpose?"

"Yes."

"Well, Minister, I think that sums it up. Harry would never have given that information away willingly."

Fudge looked convinced enough to proceed. Pettigrew was revived and force to take the potion. "Is your name Peter Pettigrew?" the Minister asked.

"Yes."

"Did you frame Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

"Did you commit the murders Sirius Black was jailed for?"

"Yes."

Fudge nodded. "I am satisfied as to the identity and guilt of this man. As of this moment, I officially declare Sirius Black innocent of all charges, and cleared of the crime of escaping and running from the Ministry. No action shall be taken against him."

"HALLELUJAH!" a new voice screamed. Everyone turned to look at Sirius, who had reverted to human form. "Ahahaha! I'm free!"

Sirius grabbed Remus and forced him into a waltz around the room. On his way by, he kicked Pettigrew, who whimpered. "Thanks, Minister!" Sirius said. "I've been waiting for this day for months!"

Fudge, who looked shocked, merely nodded. Regaining himself, he turned to some of the Aurors he had brought and ordered them to take Pettigrew into custody. Only Auror Shacklebolt remained. "Mr. Potter," Fudge said as Pettigrew was dragged through the floo, "You admitted to seeing the rebirth of You-Know-Who. Explain this, please."

Harry told his story to everyone present. He explained about Voldemort and the impostor of Mad-Eye Moody. He told a slightly altered version of what happened in the graveyard.

Fudge shook his head. "I am not sure about this. Mr. Potter was right about Pettigrew. I dearly wish this is not true. These last years of peace… I will take this to the Ministry. Dumbledore, I ask that you not spread this around until the Ministry has an official stance and plan."

Albus glanced over Fudge's shoulder, to Harry, who nodded imperceptivity. He was not sure why he was taking advice from the other man, but it seemed smart.

"I will abide that, Cornelius. For now, I must deal with this disaster within the school. Will you have Auror Shacklebolt apprehend the imposter?"

With everything taken care of, Albus asked everyone out of his office but Harry. They talked about plans and courses of action for hours. When Harry finally admitted that he was in pain from several Cruciatus Curses, Albus forced himself to refrain from admonishing him. Harry was old enough to make his own decisions. Albus just wished the boy would start thinking of himself a little. The Headmaster summoned a potion and handed it to Harry. He also poured two glasses of scotch and set one in front of Harry.

Albus noticed that the more Harry drank, the more he spoke. And the less he was able to censor himself. Harry gave his opinion of Severus Snape, which seemed to be that he couldn't make up his mind on the Potions Master. Albus laughed at some of the contradictions Harry described as he went on.

"Ugh," Harry said, looking at a clock on the wall. "I should get to bed."

"You can sleep on my couch, if you would rather not face your classmate at this time."

Harry smiled at him. "Thanks, sir. I think I'll take you up on that."

The next morning, Harry went to breakfast, and acted as if nothing was out of order. The Headmaster had told him that he would have to explain some things to Cedric and Viktor after dinner that night. Apparently, they had been a bit pissed.

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione. He ate a huge breakfast and managed to ignore the stares he got. He even ignored the questions and comments of concern.

The rest of the day was a blur for Harry. When he met Cedric and Viktor that night in Dumbledore's office, they gave him looks of mixed concern and anger.

He told them, slowly, about the situation Harry and Ron were in. It took him a long time to convince them. In the end, he had to show them some memories. Cedric was devastated when he saw that he had died, and what his death had done to Harry. He jumped up and hugged Harry mightily.

"Thank you, Harry. You saved my life."

"Eh. I had nothing else to do."

After talking to them, Harry returned to Ron and Hermione, and explained his battle in the graveyard to them.

As Harry boarded the train to go home, he thought of what he would do during the summer. And he decided it wouldn't be boring.

Ron sat next to him on the train, and they whispered amongst themselves. "So, any plans for summer, Harry? The Order wants you to stay at Grimmauld Place."

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, "You know what I haven't done for a while?"

"What?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Deer hunting."

"Aw, shit."


	9. The Old That Is Strong Does Not Whither

**Chapter** **9**  
**The Old That Is Strong Does Not Whither**

Albus Dumbledore walked into the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, exhausted and somewhat snippy. When he entered the kitchen, he nearly had a heart attack. From what he could see, Sirius Black was being eaten by a colossal animal with horns.

"What is going on here?" he asked calmly. Sirius pulled his head out of the giant mouth and grinned at Dumbledore.

"Damn, Albus, when Harry says he's hunting caribou, he's sure as hell hunting caribou! Guess what we're having for dinner?"

"Rudolph?" Albus asked, deadpan.

"Right in one!" a voice behind Albus nearly bellowed. Albus turned to see Harry Potter, tanned and more muscular than the Headmaster remembered, standing behind him, smirking.

"Harry," Albus said with a nod. Harry gave him a stunning smile in return.

"Good to see you, sir," Harry said. Harry entered the room fully, and behind him floated several plates of steaks of caribou meat. Arthur Weasley followed him in.

"Well, Molly, Harry has just showed me how to use a barbeque! I knew I was doing something wrong. Do you know what propane is?" And he was off, talking about the intricacies of muggle cuisine.

Ron walked in moment later, shouted, "Meat!" and took a pound and a half of steak and settled in to eat. As always, it was hard to watch Ron or Harry eat.

"Mr. Potter," Minerva said, her nose wrinkling, "must you eat like a starved dog."

Harry looked up. "Well, this malnourished body I've got here… damn, it's like I wasn't fed at all during childhood. Who would have thought that every three days wasn't enough?" he asked.

Minerva rounded on Albus, who looked a bit frightened of the witch. "Albus Dumbledore! You left a baby there to be treated like that? How dare you! And you're fit to run a school full of children?" Almost subconsciously, she piled more mashed potatoes on Harry's plate. Molly joined the fray, berating Albus for his mistreatment of Harry.

A few days later, Harry announced that he had somewhere to be, and that he would be back whenever. Nobody took too kindly to this, but none of them tried to stop him as he walked out.

Harry entered Gringotts, knowing he only had one chance to get it right. Goblins were a very proud race, and did not like being jerked around. Harry walked up to the nearest free goblin and said, "My name is Harry Potter. I need to speak to someone in charge."

The goblin's long face curled into a sneer. "Regarding what, exactly?" he asked. Obviously he did not like a human child sounding so important.

Harry simply replied, "Theft."

That got the banker's attention. He hopped off his stool and disappeared into an office behind him. A few moments later, he returned with a grim expression. "The Head of the Bank has given permission for you to be seen."

Another goblin showed him through a network of offices, until they reached a very large one. "Sharptooth will see you momentarily."

Harry remained standing in the center of the office as he looked around. There was a desk, large for goblin-size, and several bookshelves. A door behind the desk swung open, and a goblin in what looked like expensive clothing stepped through. He glanced at Harry and closed the door behind him. When he had settled in at his desk, he spoke, "I am Sharptooth. I am head of the Recovery Department here are Gringotts. You are Harry Potter, and you are here to talk about theft. What did you wish to say?"

"I has come to my attention that there are several goblin-made items in the vault that holds my family fortune. I would like these removed and returned to the Goblin Nation immediately, with the deepest apologies for my ancestor's actions."

Sharptooth stared at Harry for several moments. "Pardon me?" he asked. He was obviously a diplomat.

"As I understand it, goblins view the rightful owner of any object to be the maker, not the purchaser. While I do not agree with this idea, I am more than inclined to respect your beliefs and turn over all goblin-made objects."

"You would do this… why?" Sharptooth asked.

"I do not agree with the ideas of most wizards, especially those relating to other species. I see little reason for the animosity felt by humans toward goblins."

"You have, of course, been taught of the Goblin Wars?"

It was all Harry could do to keep from rolling his eyes. Professor Binns was worse the second time around, however that was possible. "Yes. The biased wizard version, of course. I find it hard to believe that goblins started every single war, and were always at fault, and always lost, whereas the wonderful wizards always triumphed valiantly. It's sickening."

"You are a very odd wizard, Mr. Potter. About our artifacts… would you allow a goblin to follow you into your vault and retrieve the wares?" Sharptooth asked.

"I would be most grateful. I would not be able to discern goblin-made from not."

"You are not worried that this goblin would lay claim to non-goblin-made items?" Sharptooth asked with a cold look.

"Goblins are not thieves," Harry said firmly.

"Very odd wizard, indeed."

Harry entered his vault with a very young goblin, who immediately set to work collecting items. He seemed to look over his shoulder at Harry every few seconds, weary of the kid known to be a very powerful wizard that had battled Dementors and dragons and merpeople and Lord Voldemort. It went against the young goblin's beliefs to remove items from vaults. But his employer has told him to do so, and the client seemed happy as could be.

He listened as the wizard went on about the absurdity of wizard's feeling of superiority. Having been told all of his life that wizards were arrogant scum, the young goblin was ensnared by Potter's words. To hear a powerful, well respected wizard speak to him like an equal was a life altering experience for him.

All in all, a hundred pounds of artifacts were removed from the Potter vault. Harry was asked to see Sharptooth as the items were sorted. The powerful goblin was standing behind his desk. Several other goblins stood around the walls.

"Mr. Potter," Sharptooth said in a very official tone, "you have both surprised and greatly honored the Goblin Nation on this day. You are a well respected member of the Wizarding community. We hope that more will follow in the example you have set, yet even if they do not, you have honored us with your respect for out ways. We wish to present you with a gift to show our gratitude. Malf?"

The young goblin from the vault stepped forward holding something long wrapped in a cloth.

"Malf," Sharptooth said, "is training to be a sword maker. He is quite gifted; the grandson of one of the most well-respected Goblin craftsmen of the last three centuries. One of the blades you returned to us will go to Malf, it having been his grandfather that crafted it." Sharptooth took the package from Malf and unfolded the cloth. A long sword was revealed. It was certainly made for use in battle, but it was as beautiful as it was practical.

"That is the strongest element on the planet," Sharptooth explained. "A mixture of steel and titanium that only goblin craftsmen can achieve. It is an art centuries old. That sword will not brake, rust, dull, or decay in any other way. It will absorb any properties that will strengthen the metal. It never needs cleaning, for it will repel any stain, blood and dirt included."

Sharptooth explained several most astounding properties of the blade, and then something caught Harry's attention. "You can call it to yourself anywhere in the world, and it will appear in your hand; no ward can hinder it. To activate this, you must put some of your blood on the blade, and Malf will finish the enchantment."

"Pardon my confusion, please. I have done some reading on goblin weapons, and I am a bit lost. I was under the assumption that such a spell could only be put on a blade once, and it was only ever done for a goblin warrior." Harry looked from Sharptooth to Malf.

Sharptooth spoke. "I was not clear. My apologies for that. The Goblin Nation is _giving_ you this blade. It need never be returned to the goblins; in fact, we would be honored if you were buried with it, the way a goblin warrior is buried. You have proven yourself worthy of the title, Mr. Potter."

Harry was floored. He opened his mouth a few times to speak, but could not. Goblins did not _give_ things. They rented, loaned, but did not give. To be given something by the Goblin Nation was beyond comprehension.

"This… this is quite the honor. I do not know what to say," Harry said honestly. "Thank you."

Sharptooth gave Harry a patent goblin smile and handed him the sword. Harry took it carefully. "To activate the summoning charm, you must cut yourself with the blade. Remember, blood will not stick to it-"

Harry had run the blade across his open palm and watched blood well up. When he pulled the blade away, there was a dark crimson liquid clinging to the blade. Sharptooth stared in shock, as did Malf, who feared he did something wrong with the sword. Every goblin in the room drew in a sharp breath as the blood seemed to disappear.

"Well," Sharptooth said. "That was unexpected, Mr. Potter. The blade has been strengthened by something in your blood. It may be because you are exceptionally powerful. But I do not think so. Any ideas?"

"I was bitten by a basilisk two years ago. A phoenix cried over the wound."

"Such a mixture would become a permanent property of the blood. The sword has recognized the potential power, and absorbed it to strengthen itself. Malf, please finish this."

Malf stepped forward and held his long-fingered hand over the blade. He muttered several words in gobbledygook, and then stepped away. "To summon it, Mr. Potter," Sharptooth explained, "simply imagine it in your hand and concentrate on it being there."

Harry spoke with the goblins for several more minutes. They were curious about Harry's plans for Voldemort, whom they knew to have returned. Harry explained that nothing would stop him from destroying Voldemort.

Sharptooth asked if a goblin by the name of Nevarik could write a piece in the _Daily Prophet_ about Harry's decision to return to the Goblin Nation items that rightfully belonged to them. He explained that Nevarik, under the name Titan Andrews, wrote articles pertaining to Gringotts and finance and businesses for the newspaper. The _Prophet_, however, did not want people to know that a Goblin wrote for them, so they made him use a penname.

Harry agreed, knowing that the _Prophet_ would not dare twist the words of a goblin for fear of retaliation. Nevarik managed to snap a picture of Harry shaking hands with Sharptooth.

Wizards shook hands. Goblins shook hands. A wizard and goblin shaking hands had not occurred in living memory.

Harry returned to Grimmauld Place and entered the kitchen. Several unhappy faces greeted him. "Where have you been?" Mrs. Weasley demanded. Harry smiled.

"Oh, you know, righting some wrongs, making friends."

"How did they react?" Ron asked. "The goblins?"

"Goblins?" Bill Weasley asked, sitting straight in his chair. "What have you been doing with goblins?"

"Like I said, righting wrongs, making friends," Harry replied.

"Goblins do not make friends. They make allies," the eldest Weasley son said. "An even then, it takes generations."

"Then I was doing that. Are we going to argue semantics, or talk about what I did?" Harry asked. He walked over and sat down between Dumbledore and McGonagall, the only remaining seat. Both were giving him a stern look. "So, I returned all of the goblin-made items in my vault to the Goblin Nation," he said.

Harry's deep dark mean side reveled in the shocked looks that surrounded him. Everyone stared at him for several beats, unable to say anything at all.

"You did _what_?" McGonagall demanded after the shock had passed.

"Professor," Bill said, staring at Harry, "goblins believe that they own all goblin-made items. They do not agree with our idea of inheritance. They think that upon the death of the owner of a goblin-made item, the item should be returned to the Goblin Nation. They believe that passing it down as an heirloom is theft. For a wizard, especially a wizard as well-respected as Harry, to return these items…."

"Harry's actions today have, indeed gone a long way in changing human-goblin relations," Dumbledore said with a slow nod. "My family never had any goblin-made heirlooms. We were quite poor by the time my mother died. Anything that I own now that was made by goblins will be returned to them upon my death. It is in my will."

"What made you do that, Harry?" Sirius asked from down the table.

"It was the right thing to do. And, it could hardly hurt for the goblins to not think badly of you. In fact, I think they might like me!" Harry said with a smirk.

Bill shook his head with a small laugh. "Goblins do not like humans."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "They give everybody really expensive presents?"

Bill laughed harder. "Goblins do not give presents."

Harry held out his hand and imagined the sword there. And behold, it appeared. Bill gasped in shock. "How much did you pay for that, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I did not pay for it-"

"You _stole_ from Gringotts?" Bill nearly screamed. He looked entirely panicked and his eyes cast about the room as if expecting his very words to cause armed goblins to burst through the door at any moment and kill them all.

"What part of _present_ do you people not understand? They _gave _it to me. You can read about it tomorrow in the newspaper."

"Harry, that sword is really one of a kind," Dumbledore said calmly. "May I see it?"

"You can't see it from there?" Harry teased. He was sitting about a foot from the older man. Dumbledore gave him a look over his glasses, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. Harry handed him the sword. The Headmaster was very careful when touching it. Goblins were known for adding enchantments so that only the rightful wielder could touch the sword. When he found that it was not so, Dumbledore picked up the sword fully.

He looked at it closely, examined it with a practiced eye. "This is a _very_ fine piece of craftsmanship. Sharp as anything I've ever seen. Beautifully crafted, elegant yet deadly. This is quite the gift, Harry. Did they ask for it back when you die?"

Harry looked to make sure Bill was sitting, and breathing. "No, they asked that it be buried with me."

Bill began to fall from his chair, but caught himself before he hit the table. "That has never happened before, in the history of the entire world," Bill said. "Harry, I think you _did_ make friends with goblins! Holy shit!"

Bill, ignoring his mother's reprimands, stood and retrieved a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey. He filled the glass with the amber liquid and took a large sip. "William!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. Her son ignored her.

"This could potentially be huge. There's a huge benefit for everybody with improved human-goblin relations. The actual value of galleons is determined by goblins, weighted against their own treasures. If they are in a good mood, rates could become more favorable for wizards. Possibilities are endless."

Bill was pacing, but he did not seem to be aware of it. He pulled a hand through his hair, messing it up. "Bill, sit down," Mr. Weasley said.

Ignoring his father, Bill's eyes went huge. "If more people did the same thing, we could be talking about a huge economy boon!"

"Ronald," Hermione said quietly, but everyone heard. "You're whole family is odd. You're obsessed with Quidditch, Percy is obsessed with perfection, the twins are obsessed with pranking, Charlie is obsessed with dragons, your father is obsessed with muggles, and Bill seems to be obsessed with goblins."

"What about me?" Mrs. Weasley and Ginny both asked.

"I am quite sure women are immune to such insanity."

"Well, if that is all, I think I'll wander off to bed," Harry said.

"Not so fast," Dumbledore said as he handed the sword back to Harry. "I would like to talk to you in the library."

"Is it important?" Harry asked.

"Anything the Headmaster has to say to you is important, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. Harry glanced at her.

"Yeah, in three years when nobody but Hermione even remembers he said it," Harry replied.

A small chuckle escaped Sirius. McGonagall's lips twitched. Remus' eyes glowed with warm amusement. It was the strained snort of Ron's that set everybody laughing.

Dumbledore huffed and stood from his chair. "Well, I can see how respected I am among all of you. Harry, the library?"

Harry followed the older man to the library and sat down in a chair next to him. Dumbledore was silent for a moment, before he shifted in his seat to face Harry.

"Many people in the Ministry are very curious as to how you managed to fend off Voldemort and rescue both Cedric Diggory and Vikor Krum. But that is not why I wished to speak to you. Harry, the things you have done in the last year have been extraordinary. The Delacour's of France feel indebted to you, because you rescued young Gabrielle when you did not need to. Monseigneur Delacour is a very important member of the French Ministry. If I remember his last promotion, he is now a well respected member of the French equivalent of the Wizengamot. Deeply light sided family. The Krum's of Bulgaria feel indebted to you because you saved their only son from certain death. Mr. Krum is Head of the Bulgarian Auror Department."

Dumbledore summoned two cups and a bottle of firewhiskey. "You rescued the only son of Amos Diggory, a well-respected member of the Ministry. You have unprecedented respect from elves, goblins, and centaurs. Even I, in one hundred and thirteen years, have not been able to see a goblin in a good mood."

"You are… very old," Harry said, sipping firewhiskey. "And obviously mean to goblins."

"Still young enough to take you over my knee, I should think," Dumbledore said sternly, but a small smile ruined the effect.

Harry smirked. "Sure, I'll let you think that. Meanwhile, I still have no idea what you were telling me. So, a lot of people think I'm kinda cool. So?"

"_So_, with Voldemort reemerged, it is important for you to have people willing to fight for you-"

"I don't want anybody fighting for me!" Harry said coldly. "If they fight, they may die."

Dumbledore looked at Harry for several moments, blinking slowly. "And you do not like the idea of people dying?"

Harry gave him an odd look. "Of course not. Do you?"

"No, no Harry, I do not. But I wonder what could have happened to you in your life to make you so determined to do everything yourself."

"My parents died. Cedric died. Sirius died. You died. Hedwig died. Moody died. Dobby died. Fred died. Ted Tonks died. Snape died. Remus died. Tonks died. Colin Creevey died. Nobody walked away from that war without permanent scars. None of those people had to die. It's too late for my parents, but I _can_ save the rest of them!"

Dumbledore placed a hand over Harry's, which was clasping the arm of the chair tightly. "Perhaps, Harry. But, unless you point your wand at one of them and say those two words to end their life, you cannot blame yourself if they die. You have spent the last forty years blaming yourself, haven't you?" Dumbledore asked sadly.

Harry looked away. "Of course. It was my fault… I should have tried harder… done more. . . ."

"But you have most of them back now, Harry. You have been given a second chance. I'm here to help you this time, Harry. You are not alone. And this time, you have the advantage of knowing everything."

"Yes, yes that is true. I will set out tomorrow to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. His hand tightened over the back of Harry's. "I will go with you, of course," he said.

"Apparating without a license _is_ a bit tedious. However, I do not think it wise for you to be too near the items," Harry said calmly. He looked in Dumbledore's eyes and saw curiosity. "One of the items proved too tempting for you. I will say no more. I will need to go to Hogwarts, Borgin and Burkes, and Bellatrix Lestrange's Gringotts vault. That was the toughest last time. Hermione, Ron, and I robbed Gringott's and escaped on one of their security dragons. I wasn't allowed in the bank for years after that."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to ask, but was afraid. "That is three. Are there more?"

"Hmm? Oh, Ravenclaw's Diadem at Hogwarts, Hufflepuff's cup in Gringotts..."

"What of Borgin and Burkes?"

"Oh, that. No, I simply wish to purchase and destroy and an item in that shop; the one that led to Death Eaters infiltrating Hogwarts. Might as well, while I am on my destroying spree. Do you have the Sword of Gryffindor handy? It destroys these things quite nicely. We will also have to travel to Little Hangleton, to retrieve the… Gaunt family ring."

"Are there more?" Dumbledore asked.

"Three, actually. Two are in this house. One other can be killed at Christmas, if I am not mistaken."

"Killed? Not destroyed?" inquired the Headmaster.

"Nagini, Voldemort's snake. If all goes to plan, I should have Voldemort dead by this time next year." Harry smiled at the older man. "But how often do things go to plan?"

"Would your sword not work on the Horcrux?"

"I… had not thought of that. I knew I kept you around for a reason. Wish to experiment?" Harry asked. He led the man to the drawing room, and he quickly located the locket. He ordered it to open in snake language, and then lanced it with the sword Sharptooth had given him.

"It worked!" Dumbledore announced exuberantly. "What of the other? You mentioned that there are two here?"

Harry handed the sword to Dumbledore and spread his arms. "Would you like to try?"

Dumbledore's face fell. "You? I have feared for years… I am so sorry, Harry. Did I tell you, before?"

"No. No, you never said anything to me. I found out from a memory Snape gave me as he lay dying. Snape seemed just as shocked when he found out that you had raised me to die as I was."

"That sounds so terrible, Harry," Dumbledore said. "That's not quite how I would word it."

"_We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength_."

Dumbledore turned away from Harry. "You must think me a terrible person, Harry. Cold hearted, brutal."

"Because you raised me to be a good little sacrificial lamb? The thought had crossed my mind, once or twice."

"I love you, you know. I truly do. That is why I did not take you myself, that night. I feared that I would never be able to teach you what you needed to be taught. You and I both know what must happen to you, my son. It is the deepest sorrow I have ever felt."

"That is saying something, I suppose," Harry said quietly. "I do not blame you. But I would have liked to have heard it from you, instead of from Snape's memory. You were much more moved by the fact that Snape still loved my mother than the fact that I was going to die."

"But I know Harry, that it will not truly be your death." Dumbledore turned back to him suddenly, grasping his shoulders. "Please, Harry, you must know that I have never wanted you hurt, in any way. I truly do love you."

"I know. Your sincerity is the reason I forgave you last time, as well." Harry pulled the older man into a hug.

The next day, several members of the Order sat around the table eating breakfast early in the morning. A couple of owls swooped in an open window above the sink and dropped newspapers. After the owls had been paid, those who had received one opened their paper and gasped. The front page was dominated by a picture of Harry shaking hands with Sharptooth. It was a warm, friendly handshake, with both of them using two hands and smiling.

"You shook hands with a goblin," Bill said faintly. "I've worked with them for years, and they barely look at me. You meet a Director at the bank _once_ and he's shaking your hand. Do you have some mystical power none of us know about?"

"If he does," Dumbledore said, serving himself a second helping of eggs, "his mother had the same power. Unfailing kindness is powerful indeed."

"Bill," Mr. Weasley said as he entered the kitchen dressed for work. "Could I speak to you for a moment, in the sitting room?" The two oldest Weasley men left the room, Bill snagging a handful of toast as he walked by.

Hermione finished reading the article, and then looked at Harry as she folded the newspaper pristinely. "Well, Harry," she said, "this Titan Andrews must like you. He wrote a very flattering article. In fact, reading him, one might assume that the sun shines out of your-"

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley said, scandalized.

"Titan Andrews is the pen name of Nevarik, the goblin liaison to the _Daily Prophet_. He was there when it happened," Harry said with his mouth full of sausages.

"When you wake up each morning, do you set your mind on one thing to do to totally blow the minds of the wizarding world?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were sharp and inquisitive. She obviously thought that something was up with Harry. He had changed quite a bit in just a year, and it was very hard to pull the wool over Hermione Granger's eyes.

"Yes," Harry said simply. He shoved another sausage in his mouth.

Bill walked back into the kitchen, looking gleeful. "Dad has decided to return our few goblin-made family heirlooms."

"But… but…" Ginny said, her eyes wide, "Great Aunt Muriel's tiara? I was promised that for my wedding!"

Her oldest brother gave her a look. "Dad is going to pay the goblins to be able to keep that for a while more, just so you can wear it at your wedding," Bill said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, that's wonderful!" Hermione said with a wide smile. "It's about time people started respecting other races."

It was a few moments later that Harry got a flood of owls from what seemed to be half the world. Mrs. Weasley used a rolled-up newspaper to try to shoo them away.

Fred and George each opened a letter and read it. "Well, this person thinks that you're just as wonderful as can be," Fred said.

"But this person thinks you're as dumb as a rock. They used more colorful language, but the Headmaster is present," George said, throwing Dumbledore a grin.

Most of the letters were overtly positive. Dozens of people explained that they were going to follow Harry's example. Hermione was over the moon.

Sirius stood up from the table and said, "Well then, I suppose I should strive to be at least as honorable as my godson. I suppose I will have to return all of the Black family heirlooms to the goblins."

Harry dragged Sirius to the sitting room and pushed him down on the couch. "You cannot just waltz into the bank and hand back your heirlooms. The Goblins still do not trust you, and most of the world still thinks you a killer. I will do it for you. Listen, I need an excuse to talk to the goblins, and handing over your crap might make them happy enough to agree with me. I can't tell you everything, not until everything is done. But I will go to the bank today."

Sirius nodded. He took out a piece of paper and a pen. The pen surprised Harry a bit, as he had never seen a wizard use anything but a quill. Sirius penned a note to Sharptooth.

Harry took it and met Dumbledore in the entry hall. The older man handed Harry a cloak and opened the door. They apparated to Hogsmeade first, and approached the great iron gates of Hogwarts. Dumbledore opened them easily and followed Harry up to the castle.

"Where exactly are we going, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as they reached the doors.

"Fifth floor. Room of Requirement. Up for a walk?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore glared at him. "I am old, Harry, not an invalid. One more crack about my age…"

Harry smiled and started up the steps with Dumbledore following him. The door to the Room of Requirement was like an old friend to Harry. He looked for the room of lost things, and then opened the door.

Dumbledore looked very surprised, and the look of shock was picture worthy. Harry immediately set off to find the diadem, while Dumbledore explored the room, murmuring and exclaiming periodically.

Harry found the Vanishing Cabinet and had a sudden thought. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, "_Reducto_."

The cabinet exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere.

"Harry?" Dumbledore called worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine. Just blew up a valuable magical object. Nothing to worry over."

Harry found the diadem and walked back over to the Headmaster, who gazed at the diadem in wonder. "This belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw?" he asked, carefully taking it in his hands.

"Yes. And now we have to make it explode."

Those words made Dumbledore wince. "Goodness. That sounds so barbaric."

"Hmm," Harry said. He took the diadem from Dumbledore and set it on a nearby table. "Would you like to give it a try?"

Dumbledore took the sword Harry offered him and braced himself. He visibly tensed and he plunged the sword into the diadem. When the Horcrux was destroyed, Dumbledore turned to Harry. "How did you do this the first time?"

"Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle followed Hermione, Ron and I in here. Crabbe used Fiendfyre to try to kill us. He lost control and killed himself. Feindfyre is one of the things that can destroy a Horcrux, and the diadem had been caught in the flames." Harry looked down and thought for a moment.

"That sounds awful," Dumbledore said quietly. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. After a moment, he said, "Where to next, son?"

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Little Hangleton, I think." The two men walked out of the castle and down the sweeping front lawn of the school. When they reached the gates, Harry took Dumbledore's arm, and they apparated outside of a rundown little hut. "You did this, last time. But… you need to stay here."

"Why, Harry? What if there is something. . ."

Dumbledore trailed off when he realized that Harry was nearly sixty years old, and could take care of himself. Harry smirked with a small shake of the head and walked into the hut.


	10. Deep Roots Are Not Reached By The Frost

**Chapter 10:  
Deep Roots Are Not Reached By The Frost**

The Headmaster waited outside, feeling a bit childish, and thought of the boy that had just disappeared in the ramshackle house. Harry was more extraordinary than Dumbledore had ever imagined.

Wandering slightly, Dumbledore could _just_ make out the graveyard. That was where Tom Riddle Sr. was buried. That was where Lord Voldemort had returned to power. It was also where Harry had been tortured, and Cedric and Viktor had nearly died.

The Headmaster turned when Harry called his name. The boy had reemerged from the house and was staring at him. Dumbledore moved forward to get a closer look at what was clutched in his hand. "What is that, Harry?"

"A ring," Harry said calmly.

"No, no, it is more than that, is it not? May I see it?"

"No," answered Harry.

"Harry, I am not a little boy. I think I am capable of taking care of myself."

Harry took a step back and pocketed the ring. "It will do you no good to see it, sir."

"I insist," the Headmaster said. "Give me that ring."

"No."

"Do as I say, Harry."

"_No_," Harry insisted. "Last time you had this ring, you ended up with only a year to live. There is no need for you to see it at all."

"Harry, you are dangerously close to outright insolence."

"I can live with that, if it keeps you alive." The two men looked in each other's eyes for several beats, until Dumbledore nodded.

Dumbledore's beard twitched in a smile. "I'm not sure I like this new independent Harry," he said. "I think I like the one that did as he was told."

"Only because I looked up to you."

"And you don't look up to me now?"

"Only because I'm short."

Dumbledore laughed and asked where they were off to. When they arrived at Diagon Ally, they drew quite a bit of attention. Harry moved through the crowd expertly, taking advantage of small spaces between people. Dumbledore, quite a bit bigger than Harry, had a harder time squeezing through.

Breathless, they reached Gringotts after several delays. Harry approached the nearest open goblin and started to say his name. Recognizing him, the goblin sat up straight and said, "What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?"

"I am the interim Head of the House of Black. As such, I know that there are several vaults used by the various members of the Black family, and I wish them purged of goblin-made items."

The goblin disappeared into an office behind him, and within moments, Harry and Dumbledore were meeting with Sharptooth.

"The Blacks have long been known to us as hoarders of goblin goods. For all of their anti-goblin sentiment, they do know that we make far superior crafts. You wish to return every item? In all of the vaults?"

"I certainly do."

"This will require a team of goblins, I think!"

"I also need to remove something from the vault used by Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I am not so sure we can allow that, Mr. Potter."

"It is Bellatrix's personal vault, which defaulted to the Head of the Black family the moment she was sentenced to Azkaban for life. As the rightful Head of the family was also sentenced to Azkaban, I have been confirmed as the Head of family until Sirius Black is fully cleared by the Ministry. As the paperwork has not gone through yet, I am still acting Head. I have it in writing," Harry said. He slid the paper across the desk to Sharptooth, who took it with interest.

"Well, this has passed all of my forgery tests. I see you are in contact with Mr. Black? Interesting. Yes, I will allow you to remove the object. However, to make sure nobody sees this the wrong way, how about we don't let the general public know?" Sharptooth asked.

"Sounds wonderful to me, I think," Harry said.

"Now, this object you wish to remove… it is important?"

"It is life or death," replied Harry. "Mine, specifically."

Harry walked out of Gringotts bank with Helga Hufflepuff's cup hidden in his coat. Back at Grimmauld place, Harry and Dumbledore destroyed it.

"That seemed very anticlimactic," Dumbledore said as he sipped tea in the sitting room with Harry.

"It was much easier than the last time. It was refreshing to be able to say Vodlemort's name."

"What do you mean by that, Harry?"

"Well," Harry said, shifting in his seat. "Last time, Voldemort made his name Taboo, to track down those brave enough to use it. He almost got Kingsley. He certainly almost caught Hermione, Ron and I. Several people died because of it."

"That is definitely not good," the Headmaster murmured. "Let us hope he does not think of that, hmm?"

The next day, the _Daily Prophet_ ran an article about all of the families that had returned objects to the goblins. Apparently, several dozen had. The person that had written that article was obviously against such wanton relinquishing of treasure.

Harry read the article with mild interest. It mentioned that the Weasley's, Black's, Abbot's, Bones', and other families of the same standing had returned items to the Goblins.

When Ron read the article, he pinched Harry's cheek like an annoying aunt. "Aw, our little trendsetter! How adorable!"

"I will bite your hand off, Weasley," Harry said coldly. To prove his point, Harry snapped his jaw at the offending hand. Ron, used to such behavior, snatched his hand away, laughing.

Mid-summer brought Harry's 15th/59th birthday. Several people attended a party for him, and he received several gifts. Harry, for his part, did his best to stay away from the liquor while Molly was around. That went out the door, however, when Aberforth Dumbledore arrived with his gift. "Patrón!" Harry yelled, seizing the bottle and hugging the elderly barkeeper. There was a general outpouring of disagreement, and one poor soul even tried to take the bottle from Harry. Quite sure that Bill only wanted in for himself, Harry slapped them man's hand so hard, an angry red welt in the shape of Harry's hand appeared. Dinner that night was a lively feast, with much talking and celebrating. Molly made Harry a cake, though she had outright refused to make a rum cake.

Harry and Ron went hunting for most of the month before school started. Harry enjoyed the time away from people and responsibility.

A week before summer, Harry and Ron attended a party with Dean, Seamus, Fred and George, and several other Hogwarts students. Apparently, in the first timeline, Harry and Ron had been too square to invite to parties. But damn, did Seamus know how to party.

Harry apparated with Ron to a car lot, and they looked over some expensive models. Smirking at each other, a plan began to form.

Harry burst into the Great Hall, eight minutes after the Sorting, and continued in as if he had missed nothing. He sauntered between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, until he reached his friends. "Nice to see you, mate!" Ron said.

"Can't say the same to you!" replied Harry. He piled food on his plate as several students around him whispered.

"I'm not going to ask where you were, because I know you will not answer. But, Harry," Hermione said quietly, leaning toward him, "a special edition of the _Daily Prophet_ was just sent out." She handed him the rather slim newspaper. "It has a story about your family. Their house was attacked and razed to the ground."

Harry looked over the paper, and then smirked. "Wicked. Too bad they'll have to condemn the plot of earth, due to the contamination. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving family, though!"

"Harry! That- that's horrible! How could you say that?" Hermione demanded.

Harry gave her a hard look. "I did not like them, Hermione. I do not like them. I never will like them. In fact, it is simply a shame that they were not inside to burn with the house."

"You're terrible," Hermione said, taking a bite of broccoli. She shook her head and repeated herself.

"Well I, for one, think it's great," Ron announced. "Now that they'll have to move, Harry won't know the address to send Christmas cards. It is the ultimate excuse."

Harry stood from the table and began walking out of the hall, not having eaten anything.

"Where are you going?" Hermione suspiciously asked.

"Centaur wanted to talk to me," Harry said without turning around.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said from his seat, "if you do see any form of wild creature… Bambi, or perhaps Simba… please refrain from killing it."

"I hunt, Dumbledore, I don't attack innocent imaginary creatures."

"You hunt, Potter?" Cormac said skeptically. "What spells do you use, then?"

"Oh, here we go," Ron dejectedly said.

"Spells?" Harry demanded. "You hunt with spells. Man, you must have balls the size of, golly, _raisins_ to do that. Spells. Honestly. When I go hunting, I go with a knife, a tomahawk, and a book of matches. Fuck, wizards are vile, disgusting, lazy eunuchs, for the love of. . ." Harry ranted as he left the hall.

"So, one time," Ron said before anyone could comment, "Harry went to Canada to hunt caribou. It was snowing some other shit, I tell you. A good two feet of powder on the ground, with more falling. Now, he went out barefoot and shirtless, with no wand. He was gone for three days. Grande cojones on that one. Harry's a badass."

"He's insane," Cormac rebutted.

"That too," Ron admitted. "We think something traumatizing happened to him. . . Oh, wait, yeah… His life is one huge trauma. So back off."

"Of course, there is the small issue of the fact that Harry is probably certifiably insane," Hermione said sharply.

Ron looked to Hermione, offended. "How could you? Harry is nothing but nice to you, and you go and plant a seed of doubt within the school. You should be ashamed!" Ron took a particularly vicious bite of chicken.

It was the next morning at breakfast before Harry was seen again. He had not changed and he was sweaty, and there was blood splattered on his shirt and face. He sat next to Ron, who thought nothing of the smell.

Harry ate breakfast quickly and stood to leave. "And where have you been, Mr. Potter?" the deceitfully sweet voice of Delores Umbridge rang out through the hall. The sound sent shockwaves of fury and revulsion through Harry, and he nearly gagged when he thought of having to look at that woman once more. Harry slowly turned to the staff table where the woman was sitting, dressed in pink. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Dumbledore looked as though he dearly wished he could leave.

"The centaurs, wonderful people that they are, asked me to go hunting with them. See, a couple of critters were trying to kill off the unicorns. Well, they're over that, now."

"You were in the Forbidden Forest?" Umbridge asked.

Harry looked at Ron with an eyebrow raised, mentally asking how stupid the woman was. Speaking as if conversing with a slow child, Harry said, "Uh, yeah. That is where the unicorns are, you know. And the centaurs."

"And you thought you could just wander in there whenever you please?"

"Why not?" Harry said with a smirk. "Are you going to follow me in to yell at me?"

Umbridge reddened around her ears. "That is not the point! Rules are made for a reason!"

Harry walked toward Umbridge and shook her hand, baffling her. "I can see that you and I are going to have a great deal of fun together. Truly."

Harry turned and continued on his way out of the hall. "Does the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures know you are murdering creatures? Do you have a license?"

"Dear Professor," Harry said smoothly. "There is a slight difference between 'murder' and 'kill'. To murder is to kill with premeditated malice. To kill is to deprive of life. I do not kill with malice, Professor Umbridge," Harry said as he reached the hall, and he barely glanced over his shoulder as he finished, "but with great pleasure."

Harry walked into his first class of the year, Potions, and sat down at the back. He tried to think of what he had learned in fifth year the first time. After a few moments of trying, Harry realized that he must have repressed his memories of Snape. Or, at least the ones that didn't relate to Voldemort.

Snape entered the classroom with his usual sour demeanor. He glared at everyone he didn't like in turn, and then he walked to the front of the room and regally leaned against his desk.

"I have come to the conclusion that except for a select few, you are all unable to learn. To this end, I have decided to stop trying to teach you. For the next few weeks, I have decided to hold a competition. I have tried to impart with you basic knowledge of the art of potion making. Concepts and rules and theories. Until further notice, you are each to attempt to invent a potion. Anything you wish to attempt, try. I have informed Madam Pomfrey that her wing shall soon be full of idiots. Begin."

And with that, Snape sat at his desk.

Within a moment, Harry was mixing ingredients and recreating one of his more infamous concoctions. It was a mixture of pepper-up potions and a cooling potion. Of course, it was an extremely potent pepper-up potion, which was borderline cocaine. The cooling charm was to keep the internal body temperature low enough to prevent hyperthermia.

At the end of the class, Snape 'randomly' selected three students to try their potions. Harry, Neville, and Seamus.

Seamus' potion was supposed to be a burn salve. It caused large burns instead. Seamus went to the hospital wing.

Neville's potion was ill-conceived goop, for which he had no explanation. Snape kicked him out of the room.

Harry drank his potion, much to Ron's dismay. The redhead dropped his face into his hands. "My god, Snape, you just let him drink some crack."

"Pardon me?" Snape asked coldly.

"He made some potion that'll have him higher than a kite. He's going to be fruitloops for several days. This castle is burning down. We're doomed."

Snape slowly turned to look at Harry, raising an eyebrow. He picked up the vial of potion and sniffed it. His eyes widened a bit as he looked between Harry and Ron. "Go to the hospital wing. Take him, Weasley."

Harry skipped out of the room and up the stairs. Ron followed him, thinking of the last time Harry had taken that potion. It was a few years after his divorce, and Harry had invented a potion to keep him awake so that he could work longer hours.

Instead of going to the hospital wing, Harry went outside. He ran around and instigated a duel with Ron.

When it came time for the next class, Harry sat in Divination and stared at the smoke swirling around the ceiling. He felt like he was floating. He came up with the best predictions he had ever made during that class.

Defense with Umbridge was just as he remembered it, even though the Ministry had taken a slightly different stance on the Voldemort issue. The woman still hated him, though, because she was a complete bigot. The potion, which was wearing off, gave Harry the courage to call Umbridge out on everything she said.

Harry walked into Transfiguration and sat at the back with Ron. McGonagall gave them all a lecture on the OWLs, and then introduced the topic of the day. Vanishing Spells. She lectured on the spells, the incantation, and the wand movement. When she set the class to working, McGonagall called Harry and Ron into her office.

They sat down in front of her desk, as instructed by a stern look. "Now, gentlemen, what am I to do with you? I assume you both know the vanishing spell I just taught the class?"

Without them speaking a word, McGonagall's desk disappeared. She nodded. The desk reappeared. "So… yeah. We know that spell."

"How did you two do on your OWLs? NEWTs?" she asked briskly.

"Great on the OWLs," Ron said.

"Never took the NEWTs," finished Harry.

"How could you not have taken them? You both worked for the Ministry! Surely, even ten years from now, NEWTs are a requirement for employment as Minister of Magic!" McGonagall said, flummoxed.

"Well, see, we spent that year chasing down Voldemort," answered Ron. "And didn't go to school. So… whoopin' Voldemort seems to have satisfied the NEWT requirement. What are we going to be doing?"

"Well, you, Potter, seem to have discovered a knack for Transfiguration that rivals your fathers. You, Weasley, are just as good. I have arranged with the Headmaster for you two to work on some advanced subjects with him during your usual Transfiguration time, and Professor Flitwick has agreed to let you miss one of your classes with him a week."

"Wouldn't Umbridge question that?" Harry asked calmly.

"Indeed. We will simply tell her what we are doing. Perhaps not _why_, of course. Perhaps I will throw in that you two get a little rambunctious in class, and the Headmaster is better able to handle you little hell- _dears_." Harry laughed out loud at the innocent look McGonagall gave them. "Now, off you go. The Headmaster is expecting you. Password is 'Sprite'. By the way, Potter, do you know what that means?" McGonagall asked curiously.

After explaining muggle drinks to the professor, and then explaining why anybody would want to drink them, and then explaining what an aluminum soda can was, she excused them to the Headmaster's office.


	11. From The Ashes A Fire Shall Be Woken

**Chapter 11**  
**From The Ashes A Fire Shall Be Woken**

The two time-travelers made their way through the castle slowly pondering why they had not been questioned about their knowledge until nearly a year of being back. The decided that the Headmaster had a good reason as they approached the gargoyle and Harry gave the password. They were greeted warmly by the older man, who showed them to seats in front of his desk. He sat behind the large oak desk and looked at them. "Hello, boys," he said. "How are you doing? How have classes been?"

"Well, sir," Harry replied.

"Classes are good," said Ron. "Umbridge is, as always, a unique character."

"Is she any different than you remember?" Dumbledore seemed particularly interested in that bit of information; he leaned forward and watched them with his trademark intense gaze.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged. "Not really. It's pretty eerie. Last year, there was so much going on, one little change made a huge difference, you know? But this year… it's just everything over again."

"Yeah," Ron said, smirking at Harry, "but this year, try not to leave Umbridge to die in the Forbidden Forest."

Harry glared at him. "Dumbledore rescued her."

"Sad thing, too. Say, Headmaster, if Harry leaves Umbridge in the forest to die, please don't rescue her. It'll save us a lot of trouble, later," Ron said with a gleam in his eyes.

"May I ask what sort of trouble?" the old man inquired.

"Let's just say that by our seventh year, she was using Mad-Eye's fake eye as a door ornament."

The Headmaster looked stricken. "She… killed him?" Harry knew that Alastor Moody was a good friend of Dumbledore's. He had told the older man that Moody had died, but it obviously did not sink in until they spoke of his death in such terms. Dumbledore had asked not to be told how anyone had died, or who killed them, so as to 'maintain the integrity of the time _blahblahnlah_'. Or, that's what Harry got out of it, at least.

"We do not know who killed him," Harry answered quietly. Dumbledore nodded and looked down at his clasped hands for a moment before he looked back up at them.

"Ah, well. Upward and onward," he said with a small smile, though his eyes were somewhat dimmer than usual. "How adept are you two in Transfiguration and Charms?"

They spent an hour going over various transfigurations. Because Harry and Ron had been practicing transfiguration for just about 50 years, they were fairly advanced. Thus, the three of them discussed various theories of transfiguration, and different applications of Charms. Most of them were not commonly accepted in mainstream society.

At the end of the class period, Dumbledore walked them to the door and bid them farewell.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, staring down at a stack of paperwork he was supposed to be working on. His attention was focused on the two boys that had just left his office. A year ago, they had been normal, mischievous fourteen-year-old boys. Now, however, they were fifty-nine-year-old world weary war veterans.

It was hard to believe that they were now only half of his own age. In fact, Ronald was older than his own parents. Harry, too, but that was a different story. In fact, as Severus was only thirty-five. . .

Albus wondered what the coming years would bring.

It was the middle of September when Harry got a letter from Sirius. It explained that Remus was having bad kidney problems. He had been hospitalized the previous January with the same troubles, but things had gotten worse.

Harry stormed Dumbledore's office and demanded to see his godfather and Remus.

"Harry, dear boy, it is quite unusual-"

"No offence, but take a flying leap. I will see Remus with or without your permission. This way is simply easier. Now, hand over the floo powder!"

Dumbledore stood and quietly made his way to a drawer that pulled out of the side of the mantle, completely hidden from view. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, "It takes special powder to actually transport oneself to our destination. I will accompany you. Do not think I am not as worried as you are; Remus is dear to me, as well."

They stepped through the fireplace, into Grimmauld Place. Sirius erupted into the room, wand drawn and looking beyond haggard. "Oh, it's you. Remus is upstairs." The followed the convict to Remus' room, and he slowly pushed open the door.

To Harry, the room reeked of sickness. He had been at the bedside of several dying people in his lifetime, and the smell was always the same. He had to fight the overwhelming urge to burst into tears. Remus was not supposed to get sick; he had not the last time Harry had lived this.

It wasn't fair.

"Hi," Remus said softly. Harry sat on the bed and took the werewolf's hand.

"Hey, Remus. Bit late to still be in bed, you think?" Harry asked. "What's up?" he said in a gentler tone.

"The muggle doctors say my kidneys are failing. Too many potions, I suppose. Our healers can't do much. I'm too far gone. The doctors say I could get a transplant, but it would take a long time."

Sirius snarled a bit as he said, "I'm not a match, so I can not donate."

"What about me?" Harry asked. He looked between the three men in the room. "Could I donate?"

"The odds of you being a match are astronomical," Remus said, a faint smile gracing his face. "But thank you."

Harry's face hardened into a look of such rigid determination, no one doubted him when he said, "I am going to help you. Let's go get tested."

Harry and Sirius eventually helped Remus out of the bed and to the fireplace. After making several cautionary stops, the four men made it to a hospital in Switzerland. Sirius did not want to risk being caught by overzealous muggle authorities that had not heard about his change of status. The fact that the news of his freedom was taking so long bothered him a great deal.

It took hours, but the test results finally came back. Harry was just compatible enough to donate to Remus. The operation was scheduled for three days later, and Harry returned to school with the Headmaster.

When they were in his office, Dumbledore pulled Harry into a hug. "You are unbelievably selfless, Harry, and unfailingly kind." The Headmaster then moved away from him and smiled affectionately. "I seem to grow more and more proud of you with each day that passes, dear boy. Now, off with you. It is nearly curfew. I am sure, however, that certain house elves could be persuaded to make bedside calls for a late night snack. We've hardly eaten all day!"

Dumbledore escorted him to the door and bid him good night.

Three days later, after avoiding Umbridge's pointed questions about his absence, Harry and Dumbledore once more travelled to visit Remus. Harry and Remus checked into the hospital, with several pretty nurses doting on Harry, awed by his kind heart for helping his 'favorite uncle'.

Harry was put under for the actual kidney removal, but he woke several hours later. Dumbledore and Sirius were by his bedside. "Remus is in surgery now," Sirius explained. "It's very kind of you to do this, Harry. It means a lot to Remus. And to me. Your parents would be proud."

Dumbledore nodded. Then his eyes lit with a vicious glint. "Now you must be extra careful, however, as you have only the one kidney."

"At least it wasn't my liver."

Remus' recovery took a while, but he was eventually up and about. He thanked Harry profusely, going so far as to swear a Life Debt. Harry smiled at him, called him ridiculous, and then hugged him fiercely. "You mean a lot to me, Remus. I'd never let you go without a fight."

The werewolf returned the hug with joy.

Harry returned to Hogwarts, and to the watchful eye of Delores Umbridge. She gave him detention for refusing to tell where he had been. He stood up so fast when she said so in class that he popped a stitch. Ignoring the pain, he snapped, "Listen, you self important bitch. It is none of your business what I do outside of school."

She turned cold eyes on him, but she wore a cheery little smile. "It is my business when you disappear from school without permission. Another day of detention, I think."

Detention that night was much as Harry remembered hers to be. Only, this time, Harry wasn't to be cowed. Instead of writing his assigned lines, he doodled on the paper. One by one, little unicorns and stars and such appeared up and down his arm. Umbridge reprimanded him for not following orders, but seemed to realize that her tactic was futile. Harry was not adverse to pain.

Harry returned to the common room that night, and displayed his arm with pride. It was then that an idea was born. All Gryffindors assigned detentions with Umbridge would take a numbing potion, and do much the same as Harry had.

It was passive-aggressive warfare at its finest.

Umbridge was pissed that her punishments were not working, but she could not, for the life of her, understand _why_ they had failed.

Later that month, Angelina Johnson held Quidditch trials to fill the empty spots on the team. Not one person went out for seeker, so Harry won by default. Ron won the spot of keeper, while Ginny made it as the third chaser. Katie Bell held her spot. Fred and George retained their beater positions, putting four Weasleys on the team.

Their first practice went surprisingly well. Ginny was quick and agile on a broom, and she complimented Katie's aggressive nature quite well. Katie was impressed, and told them so as they trudged back up to the castle. A light rain sprinkled down on them, just enough to chill them.

Harry sat in his potions class, flicking beetle eyes at Snape. After the fifth one smacked his forehead, the older man strode toward Harry and grabbed his arm. "Get out, you miserable child. And do not come back." Harry was flung into the classroom door. "Out. Now."

Walking through the dungeons, Harry smirked and mentally high-fived himself. Everything was going according to his plan.

Phase 17, however, would be tricky. He and Ron snuck out well after curfew, and made it past the Gates of Hogwarts. In the middle of their escape, a hand grabbed each of them around the back of the neck.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?"

Oddly, Dumbledore did not sound very happy.

"Sneaking out after curfew?" Dumbledore asked, seated behind his desk. After he had dragged the two of them back to his office, the old man had stared at Harry and Ron for several moments, making them fidget. "Leaving Hogwarts without permission? What has gotten into you boys?"

"We have a plan," Harry answered. Dumbledore looked at him as if waiting for an explanation. "But I cannot tell you more."

"Oh, I see," the Headmaster said, tapping his fingertips together. "So, I am just supposed to go along with that? Boys, you've had points taken, you've served detention, you've been suspended… There is not much left, but expulsion. Give me one reason why I should not expel you now."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron answered, "Because it would be very hard to kill Voldemort after my mother has killed us."

Dumbledore looked at them for several long moments before he leaned forward. "It is not right that you would use that as an excuse for misbehavior. One more misstep and I will expel both of you, Voldemort or no. Is that clearly understood, children?"

"Of course, sir," Harry said with a nod. Dumbledore spent an hour lecturing them, and then sent them to bed.

Albus sincerely hoped that his threat of expulsion would be enough to deter the two Gryffindors. He was quite serious when he said he would expel them. He could not have students undermining the staff's authority at every turn.

Speaking of that, he had meant to talk to Harry about his behavior in Severus' class that afternoon. Oh well, a task for another day.

Breakfast the next morning brought the post. Ron received a very, very stern letter from his mother. Harry received a congratulatory note from Sirius. It seemed that after saving Remus' life, Harry could do no wrong in the Marauder's eyes.

Harry and Ron knew that since they had been subverted the night before, they would have to reschedule their mission. It was too important.

Halloween brought a general feeling of happiness to the castle. Harry, however, did not have such warm thoughts on that particular holiday. It had always been a terrible day for him, and thus, he dreaded it every year.

After classes, Harry went straight to his dorm and got back into bed. He found it safer for him to hide than to face people.

He slept for several hours, and when he woke he could tell by the time that everyone was at the feast. He tried to recall what he had been dreaming about, because he vaguely recalled that it had been pleasant.

As he tried to fall back asleep, there was a searing pain in his scar. He hadn't felt anything like it since he had been a kid… the first time. He made sure he was employing Occlumency, but it made no difference. His head felt like it was being sawed in half. It lasted for less than ten minutes, but Harry felt it was more like twelve hours.

When the pain subsided, Harry fell back into a restless sleep, hoping to forget what had happened.

Harry walked into the Great Hall the morning of the first Quidditch match and took Ron by the front of his robes, and lifted him several inches off the ground. His friend looked utterly confused. Harry stared intently into his eyes for several moments.

"Win, or die trying," Harry said calmly, just loud enough for Ron to hear him.

"Oorah!" Ron barked with a smirk.

Harry said nothing else, and walked down the table to sit near Hermione, leaving Ron with his brothers. He did so enjoy making people think he was crazy. He ate a breakfast of half a chicken and bacon and sausage. Hermione rolled her eyes and piled several fried eggs on his plate, and then some potatoes.

"How you convinced the House Elves to serve whole chickens at breakfast. . ." Hermione trailed off and went back to reading the newspaper. Though, Harry was suspicious that Hermione was thinking about house-elf rights, and not the latest value of the galleon.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron screamed the moment put down a newspaper. "Guess what today is!" Harry stared at his best friend as the redhead walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables toward him. Ron lost his patience and said, "Man, think back. Like, ten years ago." Most people figured Ron was just exaggerating.

Harry racked his brain, and then smiled. November fifth, two-thousand-thirty-nine. Theodore Nott, who had exhausted every appeal, would have been due for execution. Harry would have led him down to the Department of Mysteries, into the Veil Room. He would have stood Nott in front of the veil, and asked for last words. Nott would have said something nauseating, as most did, and then Harry would have cast the Killing Curse. Nott's body would have fallen through the Veil of Mystery, never to be seen again. Grieving family members would wail about cruelty. Scribes and Ministry officials would pack up, shake Harry's hand, and then go back to work. Harry would go out with his best friend, the Minister of Magic, for a pint at the Hogshead.

It had been pretty much the same routine for each of the twenty-seven executions that Harry had performed. Harry gave a cold smirk and then glanced at Theodore over at the Slytherin table.

"I'm sad I'll miss that," Harry said.

"Ah, well, today will be good enough for me." Ron also glanced at the Slytherin Chaser.

"Mr. Potter, I would like to speak to you for a second," Dumbledore said calmly. Harry stood and approached the Head Table. When he was right in front of the Headmaster, the old man said, "Care to tell me what day it is?"

"The day Theodore Nott is supposed to die. He was caught torturing muggle children outside of London. Luckily… I was the one that caught him and brought him in."

Harry saw a flash of something in the older man's eyes, and Harry knew why. Dumbledore's own father had been imprisoned for torturing a couple of muggle boys. "I see," Dumbledore said.

Leaning forward more, Harry said, "It was a different situation, sir. Nott did it for fun. He's a sick bastard."

"I know, Harry. That was a long time ago."

"Some wounds never do heal," Harry said softly. "We just cover them up and carry on."

Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled at Harry. "Yes, that is true. Good luck in the match today."

Harry grinned and said, "Who needs luck when you know you're going to win?"

"Surely you cannot know based on-"

"Nope, not that. But by the fact that I know my team is better than the Slytherins. Have a good day, Headmaster," Harry said with a touch of haughty arrogance that seemed out of place in his voice.

Harry absolutely crushed the Slytherins on the pitch. Ron didn't let a single shot through, keeping the Slytherins at a score of zero throughout. The beaters seriously reigned down punishment upon the green clad team. The opposing beaters both had to be sent to the Hospital Wing before the end of the game.

Gryffindor Chasers mercilessly scored every time they tried.

After the game, all of the Gryffindors on the team retreated to their locker room, as per Harry's orders. He didn't want a repeat of the Malfoy thing from his first fifth year. He was thinking of other ways of getting back at Malfoy for his shouted insults of the Weasley family.

Fred and George beat him to it, however. Hogwarts woke up one morning to find that Slytherin students were stricken with severe panic attacks. At breakfast, a little snake or two started hyperventilating every few moments. Some even dry-heaved.

The entire house of Slytherin had to be detained in the hospital wing until the professors could figure out how to reverse the curse.

The very next morning, the Gryffindor's food had been laced with something to induce food poisoning. Those that had eaten the tainted food, the eggs, began vomiting violently.

Harry and Ron, who did not make a habit of eating eggs first thing, were some of the few left unaffected. Though Ron looked ready to spew when Neville threw up on him.

That night at dinner, after the lions had been restored to health, Dumbledore stood to talk to the school. He waited only a moment for their attention, and when he had it, he simply stared down at them for a moment.

"Things seem to have gotten out of hand as of late," he said somberly. "And it appears that the ill-feelings have been caused by quidditch. I regret to inform you that one more such infraction of school rules, and quidditch will be banned from Hogwarts."

There was a general outpouring of anger at that statement, but the headmaster raised his hand to silence them. "The safety of my students is of greater concern to me than a simple sport. You must all think of the consequences of your actions before you do something. That is all I have to say, for now."

The beginning of December brought horrific events. Ten high-security prisoners had broken out of Azkaban. Harry read the article in absolute confusion. When he managed to drag Ron into a deserted classroom after breakfast, he said, "What the hell happened? Last time, this didn't happen until after Christmas!"

Ron shook his head and read the article over again. "I don't know why it's different this time," he said in confusion. Ron dragged a hand through his red hair and groaned. "Oh, fuck. This'll complicate things. What do we do?"

Harry, in fact, had no idea.

The school had mixed feelings on the escape. Malfoy was walking around as if he were Ruler of the Universe, while Neville seemed to be in a perpetual state of rage. A lethal combination, at best.

A few days after the breakout, Harry and Ron were walking back to their dorm from the library when they were intercepted by their Head of House. McGonagall seemed particularly peeved.

"The Headmaster would like a word with you. I am to escort you to his office," McGonagall said. Without looking back, she briskly strode down the hall. Harry and Ron had no choice but to follow, thoroughly confused. They mentally went through their day, trying to decide what they could have done to warrant a trip to the Headmaster.

When they could not think of anything, they became worried that something had happened. Morbid scenarios ran through Harry's mind. Something could have happened to Sirius, or Remus, or any of the Weasleys…

Ron seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was pale.

As they entered Dumbledore's office, Harry could feel cold fury poring from the man. He also felt the magic thrumming in the air.

"Sit," Dumbledore ordered without turning away from the window. It was several moments before he spoke again. "Did you not take me seriously, when I threatened expulsion? Do you see me as a pushover?" the old man demanded, still not looking at them.

"Sir," Ron said from his seat, "what do you mean?"

Finally, Dumbledore turned to look at them. His eyes were colder than Harry had ever seen them.

"You know what I mean. The fight in the Great Hall during dinner," the man said. He did not sit at his desk; instead he stood next to the chair and practically glared at them.

"There was a fight?" Ron demanded. "Who won?"

"Do not play with me, Ronald Weasley," the Headmaster said, quite sharply. "I know you two were involved."

"Whoa," Harry snapped. "We were in the library, and we have been since classes let out. Ask Madam Pince! What was this fight you're talking about?"

"I was not there," Dumbledore said. "Minerva informed me that Neville Longbottom attacked Misters Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. It appears they made some comments about the St. Mungos Closed Ward."

Harry stared at him. "And we're at fault… how?"

"Mr. Longbottom had been dosed with a potion that makes the drinker aggressive. He is refusing to tell me who gave it to him. He insists that he does not know. Therefore, I know one of you did it. Which means one of you is going to be expelled."

Harry stood up and said, "You had better rethink that logic before I come across this desk at you! Do you even stop to consider that I am innocent before you accuse me?"

"Who else would have done this?"

"Good god," Ron said, holding up a hand and counting down. "Fred and George, Malfoy himself, Neville could have bought it. Yet you blame us without pause? What is wrong with you?"

Dumbledore took a small vial out of his pocket and slid it across the desk to Harry.

Veritaserum.

Old blue eyes pierced Harry. "I am your legal guardian, and therefore compel you to prove it."

Harry picked it up. "Do you have that little trust in me?" he asked, almost sadly. He uncorked the vial and said, "I will take this, and prove my innocence…" He left the rest of it unsaid. Dumbledore didn't seem to understand, as he made a hand motion for Harry to continue.

When the Headmaster was suitably convinced Harry was under the influence of the potion, he asked a series of questions about Harry's guilt or innocence.

He was, in fact, stunned when Harry proved neither he nor Ron had done anything wrong. He apologized profusely, and when confused when the two teens left without a word.

When they returned to the common room, McGonagall had assembled the entire house to lecture them on decorum and propriety. They ignored her and continued to their dorm. Harry was beyond pissed.

For the next several weeks, Harry and Ron avoided Dumbledore and seethed. Neville had been given a month of detention, but had become the hero of Gryffindor.

The students were allowed to Hogsmeade, with additional security, to do some shopping. Harry picked up gifts for the Weasleys and Ron and Sirius and Remus, and a few other people.

The winter holiday approached quickly. Harry and Ron were waiting for the night before the break. Last time, that was when Arthur Weasley had been attacked by Nagini.

Harry reluctantly dropped his Occlumency shields before he went to sleep that night. He would need to know exactly when Voldemort was attacking. Being even half a minute late could be disastrous, and Harry would never forgive himself if Arthur died.

Ron said in his bed, staring at his best friend. The thought that his father's life hinged on Harry having a dream was nerve-wracking for him. One false move, and the Weasley family would be torn apart.

He and Harry had agonized over how to deal with the situation. It was a tough decision to make. In the end, they had decided to not tell Dumbledore when it happened, but to just go to the Ministry and save his father themselves. In disguise, of course.

That had led to a problem in of itself. Ron had refused to be the Robin to Harry's Batman.


	12. A Light From The Shadows Shall Spring

**Chapter 12**  
**Al Light From The Shadows Shall Spring**

Harry woke from a fitful sleep at one in the morning, and his head snapped to Ron. With a simple nod, they were off.

Getting through the castle was easy. Avoiding Filch was much easier than avoiding Russian henchmen while sneaking through Novosibirsk in ten degree weather.

Outside of the castle, however, was a little more difficult. Without any cover, they had to use spells to hide themselves. Outside of the gate, they apparated a safe distance from the Ministry. Getting in was simple. The Ministry had used subpar security until Harry became Head Auror. Their whole system was based on the idea that nobody would dare break in to the Ministry of Magic.

They slipped though unseen, down to the Department of Mysteries. The entire time Harry had worked at the Ministry, he had not ventured to the department where his godfather had died. Now, it felt like walking back into a nightmare.

They spied Arthur Weasley down the hall, and laid in wait. It was only fifteen minutes later that the snake snuck up on the dozing man. Harry and Ron shot forward. Ron grabbed his father and pulled him away, startling the man. Harry immobilized Nagini and captured her in a magical cage.

They memory-charmed a very confused Mr. Weasley and placed him back where he had been. Harry took the snake, and they left as swiftly as they could.

* * *

"So, you… took the snake?" Dumbledore asked, surveying the caged snake on his desk.

"Yeah," Harry said, unfazed. "That would be the huge snake on your desk, just there. And, just so you know, she's saying that you smell."

Dumbledore gave Harry a look. Harry was becoming used to that look. It involved a slight head tilt, and staring over his glasses. It was mildly condescending, and quite reproving. Dumbledore gave him the same look every time Harry said something mean/insulting/rude/arrogant.

"One of these days, Mr. Potter, you are going to wake up in the body of an old woman, and regret ever opening your mouth in my presence."

"Just to clarify, am I waking up in my bed, or yours? And when I opened my mouth…" Harry asked, deadpan.

The Headmaster reached across the desk and slapped the back of Harry's head. "You are shameless, Harry. What do we do with the snake? Or did you not plan that far?"

"We didn't plan that far, sir," Ron said with a smirk. "We're just going to leave it to you, in fact."

Dumbledore's head snapped up from where he had been looking down at Nagini. "Pardon?"

"You're the Headmaster," Harry said with a shrug. "It's your responsibility to deal with stuff like this."

The two teens began to walk out, enjoying the fact that the Headmaster was spluttering and ordering them to stop. They waved as they exited.

It was the next morning that Harry accompanied the Weasley's and Hermione to Grimmauld Place. When they arrived, the some members of the Order were in the kitchen, listening as Arthur finished a story. "And then, I woke up!" They looked at him in disbelief.

"Hi, dad!" Ginny said to announce the presence of the teens. Heads snapped in their direction. "The Headmaster made up an excuse for us to not have to ride the train. Something about Harry being too unpredictable to be without adult supervision for that length of time, or something." Her eyebrows drew together as she said, "Actually, it was a bit mean."

Ron elbowed Harry in the side. So, Dumbledore did have a vindictive side!

Their vacation was much better than it had been originally. Snape did not show up to order Harry to Occlumency lessons, which was good. Harry and Ron, who realized this time that some of their number could be less by the next year, did their best to spend time with everybody. Ron actually volunteered to help his mother in the kitchen.

Their plan was to try to avoid as many deaths as possible, but unexpected things tended to happen around Harry Potter.

Presents were opened Christmas morning, and dinner that night was magnificent. Most of the Order attended, including Dumbledore, McGonagall, Kingsley, and everyone else. One noticeable absentee was Snape.

Harry enjoyed the cheerful atmosphere of the holiday, and spent many hours with Sirius and Remus, getting to know the two men better. They were ecstatic that Harry wanted to be around them. They told jokes and stories and tales. Harry loved it.

The morning they were set to leave was hectic. Mrs. Weasley, who could not understand how ALL of the children were ready to go on time, rounded on Fred and George for orchestrating some form of plot. The twins were simply confused. They hadn't packed the night before! Their plot of mayhem had been sabotaged.

Again, they did not have to take the train, so they got to spend most of the day at Grimmauld Place.

Harry emerged from the fireplace in the Headmaster's office, only to find himself grabbed by the back of the neck and hauled into a room hidden behind a bookcase.

"What-"

"The snake got away," Dumbledore said.

The words sank in after a moment. "You let Voldemort's snake loose in a castle of children?" Harry yelled.

The Headmaster looked as if he wanted nothing more than to slap Harry. "No, she got away! You have to find her, Harry. Take Ron and search the castle. I warded the castle against her escape. Look in areas mostly inhabited by Slytherins; she would go there first."

"Yes sir," Harry said. He made to move, but Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Do not alert anyone of the panic. And be careful. I must preside over dinner."

Harry nodded and left what must have been Dumbledore's private study. Ron was waiting for him in the office. He had sent the other's to dinner.

"Well?" Ron asked. Harry sighed.

"We have to find Nagini again."

"Damn it."

Harry used every spell he knew, and amplified his voice as he spoke in parsletongue. He called to the snake, sending his voice all over the castle. He and Ron made sure to remove their scents and silence their steps.

It was over three hours, two run-ins with Filch, and one already-occupied closet later that they found the snake.

She was in the Slytherin common room, where they had checked twice previously. As soon as Nagini was aware of them, she attacked. Ron jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding her wide jaw. She slammed into a wall and bounced off, attacking once more.

The fight was furious, with several close calls. Harry was fighting with his wand, and a short sword of Ancient Roman styling. One ill-fated move left his chest open, and Nagini seized the opportunity. She sank her fans into Harry's neck.

Ron snatched the sword and stabbed the snake.

But that ended up rather futile. Nagini had scarcely bitten when she withdrew with a hiss. Harry's blood dripped from her fangs, and spurted from his own neck.

The snake more or less collapsed after that. Harry stood, kicking the snake off of him, and turned to Ron. "What the hell was that?"

Ron, eyes wide and non-blinking, stared down at the snake. "I think your blood killed her. Like, poisoned her."

"We won't tell anyone about this." Harry put a hand on his neck and muttered a spell to stop the blood flow. Not much of Nagini's poison had been released, so the spell mostly worked. Only a slow trickle continued to drip out. "Dumbledore is holding the students in the Great Hall. We should go bring this to him."

"Yeah," Ron said calmly.

Together, they picked up the great serpent and carried it up the dungeon stairs. Silently, they entered the Great Hall. Several students gasped as they walked in and stretched Nagini out on the Gryffindor Table.

Draco Malfoy actually stood up, white faced and gaping.

"I see you have caught yourself a snake, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said dryly. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"Me? Oh, well, this, of course." Harry swiftly removed a dagger from his belt and made a haphazard slice in the snake's body. With a few more quick movements, he had cleanly removed the heart. He plopped it on a plate, sprinkled some pepper on it, cut it in half, and took a bite.

Hermione, whose plate Harry had used, gagged. Harry tilted his head and said, "Not the best I've tried, but passable. Ron?" Ron stuck a fork in the other half and ate it, as well.

"Did you try the liver?"

"That's quite enough!" snapped McGonagall. "Dispose of that _thing_ immediately."

Harry huffed. "Nagini takes offense to being addressed as such. She is not used to such rudeness."

"Get it out of here," ordered the Head of Gryffindor.

Harry muttered with mock anger as he and Ron hoisted the serpent up and carried it from the hall. Angry eyes followed him from the Slytherin table. Those that did not know who the snake had belonged to thought it an attack on Slytherins; a threat.

Harry and Ron transfigured Nagini into a lion plush and buried it deep in the forest. A job well done, they went to bed.

Harry and Ron walked in to breakfast the next morning. Harry wondered how Voldemort might retaliate. Voldemort knew that Harry had killed his snake. He knew who had foiled him.

Harry sat across from Fred and George, next to Ron, as they ate breakfast.

"I challenge Harry Potter to a duel," Malfoy said. Harry turned in his seat at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy was standing at the Slytherin table, giving Harry a cold look.

"What, we let you wear big boy underwear, and all the sudden you can take on the world?" Harry asked. Malfoy reddened a bit, but he turned to the Headmaster.

"The Hogwarts code permits a duel between two students if it is supervised by at least one staff member and approved by the Headmaster."

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, "for your own safety, I must suggest that you drop this idea."

"You think Potter could beat me?" Malfoy asked.

"I am inclined to allow it," Dumbledore said. "However-" The Headmaster was unable to finish, as McGonagall grabbed Dumbledore and dragged him to an antechamber.

They heard the two professors talking quite clearly. "Do you recall the _last_ time you let a Potter and a Malfoy duel? Hmm?" McGonagall asked. Before the Headmaster could reply, she continued, "Charlus Potter _wiped the floor_ with Abraxan Malfoy. And you think it would be jolly good to let their grandsons… _duke it out_ in the Great Hall?"

"Minerva-"

"Abraxan's blood still hasn't come out of the wood, Albus! The man has been dead for years!"

"My dear-"

"And we both know that Potter will obliterate Malfoy like a hippogriff on a ferret."

Harry and Ron roared with laughter at the comparison.

It appeared McGonagall lost the argument as the two professors walked back in. Dumbledore raised his right hand and the room swiftly rearranged itself so that all of the students were sitting around the perimeter of the room. Harry and Malfoy were set in the center of the hall, and the Headmaster approached them.

"No Unforgivables," he said. "Nothing immediately lethal. Nothing that we do not have the power to repair here at Hogwarts. No illegal curses, hexes, or jinxes. Do not kill each other. This is not a formal duel. One does not bow to an enemy combatant. Professor Flitwick and I will supervise. Begin."

Malfoy instantly hurled a cutting curse at Harry. The dark haired teen smirked and stepped to the side. He rolled his neck and stepped forward. With one raised hand, Harry sent Malfoy to his knees, screaming.

"You see, Malfoy, I don't take well to people insulting my family. However, I will let you surrender now, to save yourself the pain."

Malfoy struggled to his feet and haphazardly shot a curse at Harry, who easily blocked again. Harry had been an Auror, and had dueled with the best of duelers and the worst of men. No fifteen-year-old punk was about to worry him.

"Ready, Potter?" Harry rolled his eyes and moved into a battle-stance.

No limit fighting was Harry's favorite. Being allowed to all but blowing an enemy up was fun. It was great aggression relief.

He bombarded Malfoy with near-lethal spells, wearing down the Slytherin's defenses. His spells were high level and powerful. Far beyond the average ability of a fifth year.

Harry utterly humiliated Malfoy. The blond boy could not defend himself against such an assault. He was bloodied and bound by the time Harry was done. He was shouting insults and threats.

It had taken only a few minutes to completely overtake the Malfoy heir. And he had been playing with the boy.

"Ha!" Harry said, turning to stride from the hall.

The duel was the talk of the castle for several weeks. People were amazed by what Harry had done. Umbridge became determined to get Harry in trouble. She practically followed him around the school, trying to find something he had done wrong.

After spending a long day dodging Umbridge, Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room in front of the fire, relaxing in silence. Everyone else had gone to bed.

Or so he thought.

"Harry?" Nevile's voice startled Harry. He was reaching for his wand when his brain caught up with him and told him to stop being an idiot. Neville sat in the chair next to him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot, Nev," he said with an encouraging nod.

"Well, I was wondering," he hedged, "how did you learn to do spells like you used on Malfoy? I heard some professors talking… Those spells aren't taught at Hogwarts."

"I've done a lot of learning on the side," answered Harry. He smiled charmingly. Neville looked a bit confused. Of course, Neville shared a dorm with him, and rarely saw Harry reading.

"Oh. Well, see, I was wondering. You see, my father was a great Auror. He fought Dark Wizards and put them in Azkaban, and he was a hero. I… I'm not a hero. I can barely levitate something when I need to. I was wondering if… If you would help me with some spells. I want to help people. I don't want to be a nobody anymore."

Harry chuckled. "You're not a nobody, Neville. You're my friend!" Harry said. "I can help you with some spells. But, Nev, spells aren't your problem. You just need some confidence. After that, you'll be great."

Neville looked like he did not believe Harry, but would go along with it.

The next afternoon, Harry dragged Neville to the Room of Requirement. He set it up to look like it had for Dumbledore's Army.

"What is this room?" Neville asked.

"A room that seems to inspire achievement. Ready?"

They met every day after classes. Within two weeks, people commented on Neville's improved confidence. He enjoyed the praise heaped upon him by teachers. The change was so dramatic that McGonagall held Harry after class to ask him about it. Harry simply smiled and claimed he had no idea.

Hermione asked Harry about it as well. He gave her a more honest answer. She became excited. Hermione asked Harry to host a small study group, to teach others spells that Umbridge wasn't teaching.

Harry agreed, with less reluctance than he had in his previous life.

And it was a small group; far less than he remembered from the first time. He gave them a crash-course in defense over several weeks. Building confidence was high on his priority list. He had noticed that witches and wizards could vastly improve their spells if they simply believed they would work.

Harry gave the task of naming the group to Colin Creevey. Hermione had given him a disapproving look for the move, but it had been worth it. Colin came up with '_the Resistance_.'

They used that as a code name as they continued about their business. Harry felt like he had a purpose. He knew that his overall goal was to defeat Voldemort, but helping the other students showed him immediate results that he could see day-to-day.

Harry noticed that the Slytherins gave him angry looks every time he passed them in the halls, more often than usual. Hermione warned him about retribution and revenge, but Harry told her that the Slytherins were cowards; not one among them was brave enough to stand against him.

He just didn't consider that some of them were _stupid_ enough to try.

February melted into March, which meant Ron's sixteenth birthday arrived. Harry got him a keg, a lifetime supply of condoms, a new trunk, and a TV.

Ron, who had received the condoms during breakfast, couldn't decide whether or not to not talk to Harry. He was pissed that Harry had let him open more than a thousand condoms in front of the entire school. He comforted himself by reminding himself that it could have been worse.

Harry could have bought extra-smalls.

Life progressed. Harry began teaching the Resistance the Patronus Charms. It was the most difficult charm they had covered, and overall, it was a success. Most of the members could at least produce mist, which was useful.

Harry considered telling Dumbledore about their group, but he figured the man already knew.

Life went on for Harry, with the usual scuffles with Slytherins, quidditch practice, training the Resistance, avoiding Umbridge, and drinking.

It was toward the end of the month when Harry opened his charms book and noticed a slip of parchment fall out. He bent forward to retrieve it from the Common Room floor. Harry unfolded the note and read:

_Watch your back, Potter, and sleep with one eye open._

Harry went on a mental rant about the unoriginality of the note. They could have made it a little more interesting by at least signing the paper with some kind of interesting rune, or writing it in blood, or something. Twenty-first century movies had raised Harry's expectations when it came to creepy stalkerism.

Harry didn't think about the warning again, until it was too late.

The Twins celebrated their birthday on the first of the month, turning eighteen. Harry definitely took care of them. He gave them rare potions ingredients, a bag of galleons, and a list of prank ideas created by Sirius.

They celebrated their own birthday by pranking anybody that moved too slow. People walked around with green hair, glittering skin, or munchkin voices. They kept it lighthearted and fun, so that the teachers did not feel too inclined to punish them.

At lunch, everyone was laughing at Michael Corner, who had sprouted horns and a devil-tail.

Harry was sitting with Ron, and they were discussing the benefits of aerobic workouts for a quidditch team. Harry barely noticed when Headmaster swept into the hall, looking worried and a bit frustrated. He did notice, however, when the man tapped him on the shoulder.

"Someone is in my office to meet with you, Harry," Dumbledore stated. His clear blue eyes pierced Harry, as if he was trying o figure something out, and that something was eluding him irksomely.

Harry looked down at his watch. "It is a Monday afternoon. Do people not understand that I am a busy person, and my schedule is packed with important meetings?"

Dumbledore quite obviously refrained from rolling his eyes. "Should I tell the Minister of Magic that you are too busy for him?" When Harry looked like he was seriously considering the offer, Dumbledore yanked him up by his collar and gently led him from the hall.

The Minister was waiting impatiently by the fireplace when Harry walked in. The pompous man was accompanied by two Aurors, whom Harry had never met before. They gave him impassive looks, after sizing him up. The obligatory glance at his scar was done with only the barest pause.

"Mr. Potter," Fudge said, "I will get right to business. The Ministry has conducted a probe into your life over the last several months. We have come to the conclusion that you are a danger to society."

Harry stared at him for a minute. He waited for the punchline. Who didn't know Harry was dangerous.

"We were suspicious last year, after you came back claiming You-Know-Who had returned. But your vicious assault of young Draco Malfoy could not be overlooked. You are therefore on probation until your seventeenth birthday. Violation of this probation will lead to a year in Azkaban."

"This is unfair, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "What Harry chooses to do on his own time should not be a concern of the Ministry. He is a fifteen year old boy. All young boys have their transgressions, or have you forgotten yours?" Dumbledore gave the Minister a knowing look.

Harry had to give the plump man credit; he only spluttered a little. "Potter cannot get away with what he has done. He must be punished. And, as far as punishments go, probation is lenient. It will not affect him at all, if he does not violate is probation in the next year. The terms are as follows, and they are quite relaxed. Potter may not be in any wizarding public place after nine o'clock at night. He is not to purchase any alcohol during this time."

Fudge listed several other prohibitions, and then left. Harry turned to the Headmaster. "This is ridiculous. He wants people to think I have committed a crime. Who wants to follow a criminal?"

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Fawkes. He sent a note off with the phoenix and then sat at his desk. He offered Harry a seat as well, and they spoke for several minutes. Knowing that Dumbledore was on his side made Harry a little less angry, but he still wanted to hurt Fudge.


	13. Renewed Shall Be Blade That Was Broken

**Chapter 13**  
**Renewed Shall Be Blade That Was Broken**

The newspaper the next morning declared the news. Several students, assuming Harry must have done something wrong, shot him dirty looks. At the Resistance that night, several students asked him about it. They did not accuse him of anything, though. These were his friends.

Harry told them Fudge's plan, and they were angry. They continued working on the Patronus, and students that had mastered that moved on to disguise.

Progress went well with them. Neville had improved by leaps and bounds. And because he had joined Harry and Ron on their morning runs, he had gotten into shape, as well. Gone was most of the baby fat; lean muscle had taken its place.

Harry had been suffering bad nightmares for several weeks, and he was not understanding why. Hermione had urged him to see the nurse. Harry told her to stuff it up her nose.

With spring holiday approached, and Harry decided to stay at the castle. He spent the week running, eating, and sleeping. Or, trying to sleep. He was hanging out with Neville a lot, who had also elected to stay behind. Ron had gone home to his family, and Hermione was visiting hers.

His friends returned, however, and told him all about their holidays. Fred and George had gotten an earful for turning Ginny purple.

They were discussing the problem of his nightmares among them when Malfoy stood up at the Slytherin table one night at dinner. He looked particularly smug. Without saying a word, he waved his wand.

The lights went out, and the room was filled with fog. Colors began to infuse the fog, taking shape. Particular shapes. Harry as a small child, in fact.

The next fifteen minutes was full of the worst memories of Harry's childhood. They were on display for the entire school to see. And see they did.

Worst in Harry's mind was that they saw just how well his relatives treated him. Or, more accurately, how horridly they treated him. They saw him locked up and starved like an animal, caged and tormented for sport. The students watched as Dudley threw Harry down the stairs breaking his arm with a nasty _snap_.

Harry was treated much the same at school, as the other students tormented him mercilessly.

Harry's aparation at a young age drew a gasp. That was pretty advanced accidental magic. Vernon's use of force was generally met with outrage by the students.

Dumbledore and the other professors were furiously trying to undo the magic that was causing the memories.

Eventually, they came to an end on their own. The hall was silent, and most people stared at Harry. For his part, Harry was staring at Malfoy. Murderous impulses coursed through him, making him want to seriously hurt the blond. It would seem it showed on his face, because Malfoy was staring back at him in mixed horror and terror.

With an inarticulate yell of rage, Harry cast a curse at Malfoy. In the middle of the hall, it collided with a spell Dumbledore cast just in a time, with a sound like a gong. "Mr. Malfoy, go to my office. Mr. Potter, leave the hall, and do nothing rash in the meantime. Go. Now."

Malfoy strode from the hall, casting one look back at Harry. "This will not end well," Ron said. Harry walked out of the hall, more furious than he had been in his recent memory.

Dumbledore watched the teens depart, and he hoped both would be alive the next time he saw them. He conversed with Minerva for a moment, before he gathered Harry's two friends and left the hall.

Albus, Minerva, and Hermione followed Ron, who walked swiftly and confidently through the corridors. "He'll be in the Room of Requirement," Ron stated.

While watching the teen pace back and forth, Albus looked to Minerva, who looked perplexed. "Weasley-"

Her impatient reprimand was cut off by the appearance of a door in the wall. Her jaw actually dropped a little. The moment of indignity passed, but Ron was going to make sure to put it in a pensieve somewhere.

Ron pulled open the door just in time to hear quite a sound issue from the room beyond. There was then the sound of smashing glass. "Miss Granger, I will ask you to go back to your common room and make sure all of the students have calmed. Please."

For a moment, the young Gryffindor looked mutinous. She gave the Headmaster a sharp look as she strode off. Albus and Minerva followed Ron into the room, looking about. The room was quite spacious, with dark cabinets lining the walls. Many of the doors were hanging open as if they had been searched in a hurry. Other than that, the room was mostly empty and plain, with white walls, tiles, and ceiling. No furniture in the normal sense filled the room.

"Harry, mate, it should not be legal for you to carry a sledgehammer," Ron said cautiously. He stepped forward and took the hammer from Harry, who was busy drinking tequila from a bottle. He was sitting on a pile of cinder blocks, a few feet from a pile of rubble.

"What has happened here?" Minerva asked.

"Just smashin stuff," Harry said. Albus walked over to him and took the bottle from him, vanishing it without a second thought. "Hey. Hey. _That_ wasn't nice. I was _drinking_ that, you know."

There was broken glass all over the room, and small puddles of liquid around the shards of glass. "Did you drink all of this, Harry?" Dumbledore demanded. "Is this how you handle things, Harry? Act exactly as Vernon did? Get drunk and violent?"

Harry's focus sharpened on Dumbledore, and he was on his feet in half a second, toe-to-toe with the Headmaster. "What did you say to me? How dare you! To compare me to that- that… How _dare_ you!"

"How dare I?" Dumbledore asked, remaining quite calm in the face of the raging teenager. "I am merely pointing out the obvious. He got drunk and lashed out; you get drunk and lash out. Do you see the correlation, Harry?"

"I would never, _never_ do anything that that man did."

"You're doing it now, are you not? I can see it in your eyes, you want to hit me now."

"I've wanted to hit you since I was sixteen," Harry snarled. For a split second, Albus was confused- Harry was only fifteen. The he remembered the time-travel, of course.

"And why is that?" Albus asked softly.

Harry walked away, in search of some other liquor. "After Sirius died, after I watched him _die_ and you admitted you were at fault, you promised to keep me informed. It was your cloak and dagger bullshit that got Sirius killed. You raised me like a mushroom."

Albus looked to Minerva, who shook her head. "Keep 'em in the dark and feed 'em shit," Ron said to clarify.

Harry took no noticed as he rifled through cabinets. "Sixth year, I knew Malfoy was up to something. I _knew_ it. Who listened to me? You, McGonagall? _No_. Remus? _No_. Arthur? _No_. Ron, Hermione? _No_ and _no_. The Great Albus Dumbledore?" Harry chuckled darkly. "Of course not. He knew, though. He _knew_ what Malfoy was up to."

Albus got the distinct feeling that he was not going to like where this was headed. "And?" he prompted.

"It was a long time before I got the full story. Malfoy had to kill Dumbledore. Murderer him on Voldemort's orders." Minerva let out a small gasp and covered her mouth. "Snape made an Unbreakable Vow to help the little snot. I knew Snape had vowed to help, but I didn't know what the task was. Nobody believed me, though. Katie Bell almost died. Ron almost died. Seems Malfoy wasn't so good at hitting the target.

"But Dumbledore knew, and he didn't tell me. I told him I suspected something. He told me it wasn't important. Of course not; two people I KNEW to be Death Eaters plotting something _wasn't important_. Then again, nobody would believe me that Draco was a Death Eater. So –aha!- Dumbledore kept me in the dark. Do you know how frustrating that is? 'Course, that wasn't my role. Mm. That little subplot was a different scene. I was to be the final Act. I didn't need to know what had gone on in the first two, as long as I played my part!"

Albus was again lost. He and Minerva looked to Ron. "He's referencing theater now."

Harry had uncovered a bottle of rum from somewhere, and drank it straight from the bottle. "So, when it happened, when Snape blasted Dumbledore from the Astronomy Tower, I thought it was murder. Hmph." Harry sat down with his back pressed to the wall. "Assisted suicide, more like. Alas, I did not need to know that. So, of course, a year later, when Snape lay dying, well, blah, blah, blah, he gave me a few memories. And what splendid memories indeed. What do you think I saw, hmm?"

A slow smile spread across Harry's face. "What else but Dumbledore plotting _my_ death with none other than the man that was to murder him."

"No!" Minerva said, almost angry, but mostly doubtful.

"Yes! Dumbledore knew I had to die to stop Voldemort, and not once did he let me in on it!"Harry surged to his feet and approached Dumbledore once more. "And I did! I _died_ for you! Are you happy?" he demanded.

Dumbledore placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "But you lived!" he whispered.

Harry glared at him. "Even _Snape_ was shocked at how easily you accepted my inevitable death, Dumbledore. How flippant you were about it."

Ron, who had been made angry by Harry's story, said, "You know, Harry spent all of that year completely convinced you did not care for him. Hermione told him over and over that you loved him, that you cared for him. And then he found that out! Way to kick him while he's down! It took him years to recover from that."

"Obviously he still hasn't," Minerva said, eyeing Harry, who was glaring at the Headmaster.

Albus knelt in front of Harry, taking both of the teen's hands in his own. He looked at Harry, and as sincerely as he possible could, he said, "Harry, my dear boy, the Dumbledore that did those things to you is dead. I _will not_ do that to you. I have suspected that you must die since Voldemort returned, but I did not wish to tell you unless it was confirmed, as I told you this past summer. Please, Harry, understand that I am not the man that hurt you when you were seventeen. You going back in time has changed me."

"For the better, I hope," Ron mumbled.

"I admit, Harry," Albus continued, "that I did leave you with the Dursleys. You have every right to be mad at me for that. But please don't be mad at me for things I have never done."

Harry fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Albus. His face was pressed into Albus' broad chest, and his shoulders were shaking just the smallest little bit. "I didn't want them to know," he whispered.

Albus was aware that Harry had been diverting his anger from the situation at hand. Embarrassed and angry, Harry needed to lash out at someone.

"Shh," Albus replied soothingly. "Everything will be okay."

"Were you not paying attention out there?" Harry asked.

"Listen, Harry, none of the Gryffindors will treat you any differently. Neville, Seamus, Dean, Fred, and George already knew how horrible they were to you. Nothing is going to change how anybody views you, and if it does, well, fuck 'em."

"Why did I not know about this?" Minerva asked. Albus noted that the look on her face was between hurt and betrayal.

"What good would that have done, eh?" Harry asked. Albus pulled him close to his chest. The boy was hammered, and his tongue could quickly get him hurt. He waved off what would have been Minerva's angry reply.

"Let's get you to the hospital wing, Harry. Not because you're sick," Albus said with mild amusement as he felt Harry tense, "But because I want you to avoid any prying questions at least for tonight. Alright?"

Harry nodded. Albus escorted the boy to Madam Pomfrey on his way to his office. He sent Ron and Minerva to Gryffindor Tower to access the situation. Security would need to be added, if young Malfoy had been able to get in.

Albus opened the door to his office and found Draco and Severus seated at his desk. Without a word, he sat down, tapped his fingers, and stared at Draco for several moments.

"Albus, if I may," Severus said. "Draco knows what he did is wrong, and he is willing to accept punishment without argument."

"Is he?" Albus asked mildly. He did not take his eyes of the boy. "Please excuse us, Severus. I would like to speak to Mr. Malfoy alone."

Severus hesitated. He conceded, though, when he remembered the fact that Albus would never hurt anybody… And he would be standing right outside the door, listening for screams. Draco had, after all, attacked Dumbledore's Golden Boy.

When they were alone, Malfoy looked around almost frantically. "Can he hear us?" Draco asked.

"No. My office is warded," Albus replied.

"I did not mean for that to happen," blurted the teen. "That was not what I intended."

"And what did you intend, young man?"

Draco's eyes widened, until he burst forth with, "The Dark Lord ordered me to gather memories of Potter's pampered childhood to show to the school. He said that once the other students saw how privileged he was, they would stop seeing him as one of their own. I didn't think there would be anything like that!"

Albus shook his head. "The problems of being young. Voldemort knows what Harry's childhood was like, Draco. He knew that the school seeing those memories would drive Harry to the edge. The curse he cast at you would have caused a painful death. I am glad I intercepted it in time. Voldemort was testing you, Draco. Are you Marked, then?"

Draco instantly rolled up his sleeves to prove that he was not. "I've decided I don't want to serve the Dark Lord."

"Oh? And what caused this change of heart?"

"Potter is powerful," Draco said at once. "He's scary. The Dark Lord underestimates him. I saw the look Potter gave me; he would have killed me with his bare hands. And, if Potter can grow up as he did, and still defend muggles… I look pretty silly arguing for their deaths, do I not? I've never even met one. Do not get me wrong; I do not like muggles. I would not marry one, or let my children marry one, but…. I do not want to kill them off."

"Draco, you must understand that I cannot believe you right away, of course. You have been raised all of your life to revere Voldemort. Minds seldom change in a day."

"It started when Potter killed the Dark Lord's snake. That should have been impossible. And then he completely trounced me in that duel; my father taught me to duel. I should have beaten Potter easily. If he was as weak as the Dark Lord claims. I don't think that many Death Eaters would stand a chance against him. And he's a madman. I think he enjoys causing pain as much as the Dark Lord does."

Albus looked him over carefully. He seemed sincere. He was not using any techniques to close his mind, and he continuously looked back at the door nervously. Albus would not risk Severus' status as a spy to ease his mind.

Albus spoke to the teen for more than two hours about different aspects of the war. Draco told him several things about Voldemort's plans and movements that matched up with that Severus had been telling him. He would have several things to discuss with the Order, next time they met.

Harry poked Neville hard in the side, attempting to wake the other boy up. He had conjured a plan while in the Hospital Wing, and snuck out to put it in motion.

When Neville simply snored fiercely and rolled over, Harry poked him again and again until he woke up.

"What are you _doing_?" Neville demanded sleepily.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said. "Get up."

Neville pulled himself up and sat cross-legged, staring at Harry with sleepy eyes.

"What?" he said.

Harry sat on Neville's bed and cast a muffling charm around them. "I have to tell you, Neville. A few weeks ago, I was in the Headmaster's office. He had to leave to go do something. I found this _really_ shiny thing. You know me and shiny things, mate."

Neville chuckled. "Let me guess; you touched it?"

"Yes. It was a pensieve. It was full of memories Dumbledore had put in there. I, well, I didn't know what it was, really. So I poked it, naturally. I was sucked into this memory. It was a trial, Neville. The trial of Bellatrix Lestrange."

Neville sucked in a sharp breath. After a moment, he asked, "You know about my parents, then?"

"Yes, Neville. I wanted you to know that I think your parents are amazing people, Nev. And I know, without a doubt, that they would be very proud of you," Harry said, looking Neville in the eye.

The shy boy nodded slowly, "Thank you."

"I also want you to know that I will never, ever tell anybody if you do not want me to, you know that." Neville nod was confident that time.

"Is that what you wanted to say?" Neville asked.

"No. I wanted to ask if I could tell the school."


	14. The Crownless Shall Again Be King

**Chapter 13:  
The Crownless Again Shall Be King**

Neville was quiet for several seconds before pure shock seemed to force him to say, "_What_?"

Harry smirked at him, and told him of the plan.

Breakfast the morning after Malfoy's little prank was a somber affair. Most of the students picked at their food, unable to stomach the heavy meal after what they had witnessed the night before. Hagrid was angrily stabbing his food, sending bits flying off his plate and toward Professor Flitwick, who squeaked when a chunk of sausage hit him in the face.

Minerva was staring at her full plate, wondering what should be done. Pomona Sprout looked as if she had cried most of the night. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen. Most of the other teachers looked slightly emotionally worn as well.

Even Severus Snape looked a wee bit distracted, though his face was as emotionless as it always was.

The Slytherin table was mostly quiet. Draco Malfoy looked shaken, and his hair was just a little less perfect than normal. Most of the Slytherins had had their worlds tilted just a little. A truth that they had long held as fundamental had been torn from them the previous night.

The Ravenclaws were completely thrown. Some were visibly more distraught than others, while some looked simply perplexed. Cho Chang looked as though she had not slept all night, and her hair was a bit rumpled.

The Hufflepuffs were, for the most part, terribly sad. They liked Harry, and thought highly of him, especially since he had saved Cedric's life.

The Gryffindors were torn between deep sadness and righteous anger. It was one of their own that had been treated like that, that had endured such a life and never said a word. It was one of their own whose memory Malfoy had robbed, whose life had been laid bare before the entire school for scrutiny. Their common room had been breeched, their dorms had been searched. All of them felt violated, and all of them were furious for the violation Harry had suffered.

Harry himself walked into the Great Hall with his hands in his pockets and looking completely normal. Most people watched him walk down the Gryffindor table and settled between Ron and Hermione, who also looked strangely normal. Conversation and whispers rang around the room.

Not missing a beat, Harry said, "Quidditch final today."

That gave Gryffindors something to attach themselves to. They were looking forward to their match against the Slytherins. On their end, the snakes were a little wary of the game. The thought of facing enraged and usually irrational people in a violent game was not a happy one.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Parvati asked quietly. He grinned at her.

"Quite. Looking forward to the match today, you know. I do love flying. Way up high. High as a bird. Where the atmosphere swallows up _all_ the noise. Out of sight. It is spectacular. _Breathtaking_, even."

Parvati stared at him and nodded slowly. "I see."

The Gryffindor team sat in the locker room and watched Harry pace. "I want blood," he said. "And I want it taken in such a way that we look like angels. Dive them into the ground. Fred, George, aim for brooms first. A bludger to the chest hurts. Hurtling to the ground is terrifying. Chasers, show no mercy, for you shall receive none. Ron, I know you've got my back."

He looked them over. They looked angry, vicious, and determined. Ron was growling on every exhale. The twins looked meaner than Harry had ever seen them. "Ready? Let's go!"

Harry led his team out of the locker room. They marched proudly onto the pitch, to the cheers of most of the school. They did not smile, they did not waver. They met Madam Hooch in the center of the pitch, and waited on the Slytherins.

And waited.

A terrified first year trudged across the field, eyeing the Gryffindors with uncertainty. He stopped at Madam Hooch and said, "Slytherin forfeits." He ran off at the first note of Ron's bellow of rage. The twins restrained him from chasing the boy.

Madam Hooch made the announcement with a magnified voice. The crowd booed and roared. Harry shook his head. Cowards.

He anger increased as he thought of the snakes in their little den, cowering in fear. He strode toward the Slytherin locker room, ignoring his teammates, and pounded on the door. He bellowed, "Get out here you cowardly sacks of shit! Get out here and face me like men! I'm going to rip you apart and feed you to the dogs if you don't get out here now!"

Ron broke free from his brothers and slammed into the door next to Harry. "If I make it through this fucking door before you do, I'm going to make you wish you'd never heard of a broomstick!" Ron screamed.

"You can face me in the air, or face me on the ground!" Harry yelled. "One way or another, I'm going to _hurt you_!"

Harry stood back and aimed a heel-kick at the door. It flew open under the force of the strike, crashing into the wall. That obstacle removed, they two teens stormed the locker-room. Fred and George were behind them, followed by Seamus and Dean.

They found the Slytherins backed up against a wall, pointing wands at them. Ignoring magic, the Gryffindors ran forward and attacked them violently. Harry took on Crabbe and Goyle, and took animalistic delight in causing them a great deal of pain. He punched them like a wildman, drawing blood and shouts of pain. Someone pulled him away just as he was repeatedly slamming Crabbe's head into the wall.

Several professors had entered the locker room to break up the fight, and found that it was more of a one-sided ambush. The Slytherins were huddled against a wall, bloody and only somewhat conscious. Harry's hand was bleeding and swollen from the tip of his littlest finger to his wrist, where he had pounded on the door.

Someone grabbed him roughly and shoved him toward the door, where McGonagall had dragged the others. "Take them to my office," Dumbledore's voice said from somewhere behind Harry.

The six Gryffindors found themselves in the Headmaster's office. Dean and Seamus, who had never visited before, looked around curiously. Most of the boys had black eyes and cuts of various degrees.

Harry's adrenaline was still pumping, so he paced around the office at an Olympic speed. They waited for quite a while before the Headmaster arrived. He had McGonagall and Snape in tow.

"Idiot," thundered Dumbledore, grabbing Harry by the arm to stop his pacing. His eyes were storm clouds of anger. "What were you thinking? That the Ministry would overlook an outright attack?"

"They are cowards."

"So?" demanded the older man, shaking Harry a bit. "That does not mean they should be beaten to death! Do you realize that you'll go o Azkaban for this?"

"I will not," Harry said simply.

The Headmaster's eyes widened and his grip tightened. "You must be _old enough_ to realize that you are being naïve," he said. "The Ministry hates you, Harry. They want you out of the picture. How do you possibly foresee yourself getting out of this?"

"Sympathy, of course."

Dumbledore's eyes hardened. "You are an arrogant fool. You have sentenced yourself to prison!"

"I have not. Are you not listening? I won't spend a day in Azkaban."

"I don't think you understand that we could hear the boys you attacked screaming for help from the stands. How do you expect to get out of this?"

"You're being very negative about this, you know," Harry said.

"Negative? About an unprovoked attack against other students? I'm furious! There is no excuse for what you did. And your inability to control your temper does not count. What caused you to do this?"

Harry smirked, which seemed to anger Dumbledore further. "I might have gotten caught up in the heat of the moment."

"What moment?" the old man asked.

"Well, that was quite the pre-game speech," Fred said from across the room.

"What pre-game speech?" Dumbledore asked Harry. "What did you say?"

"Something about showing no mercy, and wanting blood."

"Let me see it," Dumbledore ordered.

"No," Harry said. "You're not being nice."

"_Nice_? Let me see the damn memory!" Dumbledore snapped.

"No!" Harry felt the Headmaster enter his mind and slam against his defenses. "Get out!" Harry shouted. He tried to push the old man away, but defending himself mentally and physically at the same time was overly tiring. The attack increased in strength.

Dumbledore was a powerful wizard. Harry was just half-his age, and less experienced than him. Harry did his best to defend his mind from the painful onslaught, but his defense weakened every second. He held on as long as he could, throwing memories in Dumbledore's path. He showed his deaths he had seen, and pain that Dumbledore himself had caused with his secrecy and trickery.

The old man pushed the memories aside, only barely glancing at them. Finally, he broke though Harry's mind, accessing the memories of both the Gryffindor locker room, and the Slytherin locker room.

Minerva stood stock still. She did not know who to stand with, in that moment. Albus was her employer and long-time friend. She had always backed him up.

But Harry was Harry, and he was obviously distressed and in pain. And he was being attacked by a man older and stronger than him.

Movement gave Minerva purpose. She twisted around to make sure the other five boys did not attack the Headmaster. Severus stepped forward decisively and grabbed the Headmaster's shoulder to pull him away. "Stop it, Albus, you're hurting him!" He did not see Dumbledore's hand reach out to hit him with a mild banishing charm. Severus was thrown back into the opposite wall, where he crumbled to the floor and cursed colorfully.

"Albus!" Minerva said, astonished.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Albus let go of Harry. Minerva's breath caught as Harry slid to the ground. He was either shaking, or seizing mildly. Albus turned to her, his words dying on his lips as he saw her face. She looked scared. Her wand was pointed at him, and her hand was trembling.

The Headmaster looked at Harry's five friends, and saw they were angry and afraid. Severus was pulling himself up from the ground, glaring at Albus.

Slowly, Albus turned and looked down at Harry. A long, cold laugh met Albus' ears like bad music. Harry was standing up, stretching his muscles. His scar was bleeding profusely, dripping down his face. "Thanks for that, old man," Tom Riddle's voice said. "It was a bother, trying to get through his defenses remotely. I've been having young Malfoy soften him up for weeks. Stealing a memory or two every night, you see. The ones he would not be guarding so strongly. I scarcely dreamed Albus Dumbledore would do the job for me!

"Tut tut, Severus. Worried about Precious Potter? How unlike the man I know. Traitor. I shall see to your death personally. As for the rest of you. . ." Tom drew Harry's wand, eyeing them like a predator. "Oh, my. I just don't know who to choose. I have longed to kill Dumbledore, but for Potter to kill his Weasel would just be delicious irony. Nothing for it, I suppose. _Avada Kedav-_"

Tom could not finish the spell, as one of Severus' had stopped him. Ron Weasley looked at the man that had saved him, and nodded in thanks.

Harry's body fell to the ground. Albus approached, but he was pushed to the side by Ron. "Stay away from him, you treacherous worm."

Albus looked at all the people in the room, who were looking at him in anger. He didn't know how to rectify the situation. He had simply wanted to see what damage Harry had done. He hadn't meant to seriously hurt him. Or Severus, for that matter. Guilt crashed through him in painful waves. What had caused him to do that?

Albus swiftly left the room, headed for his private study. He felt a terrible urge to vomit, and would rather do that without an audience.

"Harry?" Ron asked, shaking his friend. "Harry, wake up. I will slap you, you know. Wake up, damn it, or I'm feeding your broomstick to a woodchipper. Come on!"

Harry's eyes opened slowly. Ron's wand was in his face. "Harry?"

"What, asshole?" Harry snapped. He had a horrific headache; he felt as if his brain was being ripped in two, slowly.

"It's him!" Ron announced. "How do you feel?"

"Like killing someone."

"Don't worry, that's still him," Ron said to the people behind him.

"Help me up, please," Harry said. Ron grabbed his uninjured hand and pulled him to his feet. "I'm going to the Hospital Wing."

Harry left the room, and his friends followed him. They each took a bed, and half-listened to Madam Pomfrey scold them for fighting. Harry worked on making sure all of his mental defenses were in place. Dumbledore had done a good job of destroying them.

It was a slow process, and attention had to be paid to every minute detail. The painstaking process took hours, and was exhausting. He was up most of the night perfecting it.

The next morning, the six Gryffindors trekked to the Great Hall. They were met with extremely angry looks from all over. Gryffindors were angry because their fight had lost all of the house points. Slytherins were angry because it was their house that had been attacked.

They sat at the end of the table closest to the staff table, as they were the only seats left. Conversation picked up at an intense pace. People looked at them and pointed toward them as they ate.

Halfway through the meal, there was a commotion in the Entrance Hall. The Minister entered with six Aurors and two dementors.

"Harry Potter," Kinglsey Shacklebolt said in his deep voice, "you are under arrest, by order of the Minister of Magic."

Harry smirked at Ron as he stood. He turned and walked along the staff table. He turned and continued down the middle of the hall, between the Hufflepuff table and the Ravenclaw table. He stopped in the center of the hall and released a burst of magic.

The two dementors slowly bowed and drifted from the castle. "Get back here!" the Minster yelled at their retreating backs. He looked at Harry in confusion.

Ron's laughter cut through the hall. "Hell yeah, that was wicked."

"Yeah, they're my bitches," Harry said without looking at Ron. "So, which of you planned to arrest me? Any takers?"

Kinglsey turned to his colleague and said, "Do you remember what the Auror Academy said about arresting lunatics?"

"Which of you would flinch if I drew my wand and shouted, '_You'll never take me alive, coppers!'_?" Harry asked.

Kinglsey walked forward easily and held his hand out for Harry's wand. "Please don't make me run away screaming like a Hufflepuff," Kingsley deadpanned.

"I'm considering it, Shacklebolt," Harry said easily. He gave Kingsley his wand.

"Now, do you promise to not do irreversible damage to me, specifically my genitals?" Kingsley asked.

"_Hush my darling, don't fear my darling, the lion sleeps tonight_," Harry sang as he brushed past the large Auror.

Ron, Fred, George, Seamus, and Dean stood and quickly followed them out. "Where are you going?" Fudge asked.

"Well, Lard-Ass," Fred said with a straight face, "we committed the same crime as Harry."

"So, Fatty, we should be arrested just the same," George added.

"As it is, Blimp, it is only fair," Seamus said.

"In conclusion, Tubs, you take one of us, you get all of us," Dean finished.

A red faced Fudge ordered them all arrested.

"You forgot me, you incompetent ninny," Neville said, standing from the Gryffindor table. "I knew it could have happened, and I let it. Proudly."

"As did I," Luna Lovegood said in a dreamy voice. "Right, an insult, sorry. Move it along, Porky."

"Don't forget me," Hermione called, also rising, "you pathetic, pandering, neo-Death Eater." Her friends looked at her in shock. "Well, he hired her," she said, nodding to Umbridge, who was incensed on Fudge's behalf. "And she obviously got her job on her knees."

"_**Oh**_!" Ginny yelled, covering her mouth. "Oh, my god, you went there! I might hurl."

All nine of them were led from the hall by the Aurors and the highly embarrassed Minister.

Albus made his way to the Ministry after breakfast, in hopes of helping Harry. He had barely slept the night before. Several times he had stopped himself from going to the Hospital Wing to beg forgiveness. His stomach was tied in knots as he approached the courtroom.

When he entered, Harry was telling his life story, explaining his feelings on his secrets being revealed to the whole school. Albus was shocked to see sympathetic looks from the Wizengamot. "And Ron, well, he's got my back no matter what; loyal to a fault. And I've got his. Fred, George, Seamus and Dean only entered to _stop_ a fight. But when things went down, they were drawn in. When we entered, the Slytherins had wands pointed at us. I thought I heard the beginning of the _Killing Curse_, so we attacked. I found out later, after reviewing the memory that it was just a short scream. Same sound, you know? You know, Gryffindors despise cowardice in all forms. And, we don't bring our wands onto the field, so we were unarmed."

"That is all well and good," Madam Bones said, "but what could possibly explain the extent of the injury you caused?"

Harry smiled ruefully, "Well, I do not wish to sound like I am bragging, but the Gryffindor team training includes cardio and weightlifting. It was simply that we are stronger than the Slytherins, who follow a rather lazy training schedule under Draco Malfoy. It was much more intense in the past, under previous captains."

Some of the members of the Wizengamot spoke amongst themselves. Albus sidled along the wall until he was next to Kingsley, who was guarding another door.

"How is it looking?"

"It's looking like Potter is going to be awarded the Order of Merlin," Kingsley whispered.

"Pardon?" Albus asked.

"He's got them wrapped around is little finger. In fact, his little finger is proof that he was beside himself when he did it."

Albus stared at Harry in shock.

Harry burst into the Great Hall during dinner and leapt onto the Hufflepuff table, turned to his left, pointed at the Slytherins, and yelled, "Suck it, bitches! Nobody takes down Harry Potter! You ain't got _shit_ on me."'

Fred, George, Ron, Seamus and Dean walked in, stamping their feet and clapping in rhythm, singing, "_We will, we will rock you_."

Harry held up his hand, and his friends quieted. "_We are the champions, we are the champions, no time for losers, 'cause we are the champions_!" Harry laughed in the general direction of the Slytherin table and the sat down in the general area of his year at the Gryffindor table. His friends joined him. Luna sat at the Ravenclaw table as if she had not left it that morning. In fact, she looked a little upset that her toast was gone.

"That was exhilarating," Hermione said. Neville nodded, his mouth full of turkey. "We should do stuff like that more often."

"Oh, we do, we just don't usually include you," Ron said easily. "You're a bit of a prude."

"True," Hermione agreed to everyone's surprise. "So, what do we do next?"

The Gryffindor table was silent, waiting for Harry's reply.

"Next, we buy potpourri and candles, and hold a séance to talk to Fudge's career." Ron barked laughter as he ate his potato.

"Nice," the redhead said.

Others groaned. "What? It's true!" Harry said.

Everyone entered the Gryffindor Common Room. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick had spent a few hours adding layers of security that was supposed to keep all but Gryffindors from entering. It apparently worked, seeing as poor Flitwick had been forcefully ejected from the room.

Harry sat in front of the fireplace. People asked him questions about his great escape from the Ministry, so he told the story, with Ron lending his perspective every so often. Many students looked at him in amazement as he told the only slightly embellished tale.

As Harry went to bed, he noticed Hermione looking around curiously.

Harry and Ron were up early the next morning. They woke Neville to go on their daily run, and all three stopped in the Great Hall for some toast and juice first. When they entered, they saw the five Gryffindor first year boys trussed up in their underwear, their noses dripping blood into a rather large red puddle on the ground.

The three older boys stared in shock. "Looks like someone forgot to tell them that they're not supposed to walk through Mordor in naught but their skin," Ron muttered.

They set about the lowering the boys, fixing their noses, cleaning the blood, conjuring clothing, and waking the boys up. In a slow, hesitant manner, it was revealed to them that some older Slytherins had ambushed them outside of the library just before curfew. They didn't remember much.

Neville showed them to the hospital wing. Harry and Ron located the Headmaster in his office and told him the story. He seemed to age with every word. "Thank you for telling me this, boys. Please, leave the punishments up to me. Don't act rashly."

They did not respond as they walked to the door. "Harry," Dumbledore called. "I'm sorry."

Again, Harry gave no response.


	15. Live It Up Till They Lay You Down

**Chapter 14:**  
**Live It Up Till They Lay You Down**

A week went by. The Slytherins responsible were caught and punished, and Harry did as Dumbledore requested and had not sought retribution. It would come in due time.

Harry's Plan, however, was ready. He set it up one Friday night, so it would be ready for breakfast.

As Harry went to bed, he thought of Snape, for some unknown reason. The man had been out-ed to Voldemort as a spy, and there were students in his house attempting to get revenge. The man had been more surly than usual, but was fortunately blaming Dumbledore, and not Harry. In fact, Snape had not bothered Harry at all.

Harry walked into the Great Hall with a slight spring in his step. His plan was in motion. He sat next to Ron, and triggered the signal. Words appeared in fiery letters across the huge doors, drawing attention from the food.

_An incomplete story is hardly a story at all_

"What?" people whispered.

_You have been given the middle with no beginning or end, and what is a sandwich without bread?_

"Messy," Dennis Creevey answered philosophically.

_Alas, the whole story_

Mist began forming around the door that led to the Entrance Hall. It billowed and grew until it filled the entire wall. It resembled a muggle TV screen, or more accurately, a movie theatre screen. Images, fuzzy at first but clearer as the moments past, appeared. A warm cottage with a mother, a father, and a baby boy. A dark figure slowly approached, feeling triumphant. The figure blew the door to bits as he entered. The father ran at him, wandless but feeling extremely protective of the woman of the boy. He is killed easily.

The woman protected her son, shielding him from the dark man with her body. "Not, Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

The sound of the woman's body hitting the floor filled the Great Hall. The adorable little baby stared at Lord Voldemort, as the Dark Lord cast the deadly curse. Red eyes and hideous cold laughter.

Harry being sorted. The hat was trying to place him in Slytherin, because he would be great there. Harry refused, denied. A transparent image of a haughty eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy flashed, explaining Harry's denial of Slytherin.

Halloween of Harry's first year, and he and Ron saved Hermione from a huge mountain troll. Ron's levitation charm was commendable. Five points for it seemed almost insulting.

Harry encountered Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, but Firenze drove the Dark Lord off. They spoke over the body of a dead unicorn.

Harry was in a room with Professor Quirrel and a mirror. The ugly purple turban was removed, and Lord Voldemort spoke from the back of the Professor's head, trying to tempt Harry, to lure him. . .

Harry killed Professor Quirrel with no more than a touch. The bodiless soul escaped through the school.

Harry's summer was interrupted by Dobby the house elf, warning of terrible danger at Hogwarts. The curious little elf would say a few words, then proceed to slam his head into the floor.

More writing appeared in front of the mist:

_While you were sleeping, dear Hogwarts_

Throughout the year, Harry heard voices from the walls, muttering, threatening. "_Rip… tear… kill... time to kill_."

The dueling club, Malfoy sent a snake at Harry. The snake tried to attack Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry yelled, "Leave him alone!" and the snake backed off.

"So, we just have to get into the Slytherin common room!" twelve year old Ron said. "Piece of cake." A few seconds later, the memory revealed Ron saying, "I'm drinking _nothing_ with Crabbe's toenails in it."

Harry was in a memory, witnessing Tom Riddle witness the body of a young girl be carried from the school. Tom Riddle framed Hagrid for the death.

Hermione had been petrified, and Harry found a crumpled up note in her hand. "A basilisk," Harry told Ron.

They tried to tell McGonagall, but a loud voice told them to go to their common room. As Harry and Ron walked, Harry mentioned, "Second year in a row that this 'telling McGonagall' thing hasn't worked for us."

They overheard that a student had been taken into the Chamber.

Ginny Weasley.

Harry and Ron, Lockhart in tow, burst into the second floor girl's loo. Harry asked how Myrtle died, and she became very excited. "Ooooh, it was dreadful!" She told them the story, and then, "I _died._"

"How?" Harry asked.

"No idea."

They eventually found the opening to the Chamber of Secrets. Lockhart stole Ron's wand, and tried to _obliviate_ them, after revealing that he was a fraud.

Harry and Ron were separated. Harry went on alone. He met the memory of Lord Voldemort, and encountered the slowly dying body of Ginny Weasley.

With Gryffindor's sword, Harry killed the basilisk, but had a fang stuck in his arm for his trouble. He used the fang to destroy the memory of Tom Riddle.

Lucius Malfoy showed up to the school, with his house elf in tow. Harry freed Dobby with a sock.

That summer, Harry made his aunt Marge float away, and he took off from the Dursley's house. He encountered a huge black dog.

The train ride and the Dementor, with Harry hearing his mother's screams and Voldemort laughing. They all met Professor R. J. Lupin.

Harry messed with Malfoy in Hogsmeade, hurling mud at him from under his Invisibility Cloak.

A voice with no image was next up. It was dark and emotionless:

_The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight…The servant will break free and set out to return to his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was._

Ron had recovered his missing rat, but was taken hostage by a huge black dog. He was dragged under the Whomping Willow.

Harry encountered Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack. He pled his case, quite convincingly. Remus Lupin entered, and believed Sirius was innocent. Snape entered. He threatened to kill Sirius, after binding him with rope.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry's voice was joined by Ron and Hermione. Snape was slammed into a wall and rendered unconscious.

Harry heard the full story of the switch of Secret-Keepers. He saw Peter Pettigrew, in front of his very eyes. He stopped Remus and Sirius from killing the pathetic man.

Back on Hogwarts' grounds, Remus transformed painfully into a werewolf. Ron had been chained to Pettigrew and Lupin. The dog and the werewolf fought viciously. Pettigrew used Lupin's wand to transform. He escaped.

Harry came face-to-face with a dementor, with his horrible grey skin and rattling breath.

Surrounded by swarms of dementors, Harry cast a patronus toward the prone form of his godfather. The amazing stag burst forth, warding off the dementors easily.

Harry and Hermione rescued Sirius from Professor's Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. They sent the convicted murderer and the condemned hippogriff off into the night.

_And that, kiddies, was the FUN stuff!_

Harry was sleeping, and dreaming. Or, it seemed like dreaming, because he was definitely asleep, and definitely seeing things.

Frank Bryce, an innocent old muggle man, was murdered by Lord Voldemort, who was hiding out with Wormtail and an unknown man. They were talking about something that was going to happen at Hogwarts.

Harry saw the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup.

In the Headmaster's office, there was a pensieve innocently lying around. Harry was intrigued; he stuck a finger in the swirling substance. He was seeing a memory of a trial of the Wizengamot.

Four people were escorted into the room by Dementors. A heavy man, a nervous man, a bored woman, and a frightened teen.

The woman had black hair, and heavily hooded eyes. She sat in the chair as if were a thrown, and looked around the room with pride. The nervous boy was yelling for his father.

Barty Crouch Sr. looked on impassively. "You have been brought before the Council of Magical Law, so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court. We Have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror — Frank Longbottom — and subjecting him to the _Cruciatus Curse_, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

The teen was still persistent. "Father, I didn't!" Crouch ignored him.

"You are further accused of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information."

After a moment, Crouch said, "I ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

Every hand in the hall rose with no hesitation. The woman was yelling that the Dark Lord would return, and they would be rewarded for their loyalty. They would be freed from Azkaban by their master.

"The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch!"

Harry was watching Cedric and Viktor when all three of them touched the Triwizard Cup. They were transported to a graveyard.

"Where are we?" Cedric asked, rounding on Harry. "Is this some trick? You were trying to get all the glory yourself, weren't you?"

"No, dumbfuck," Harry snapped. "Take your wand out, be alert. Where did the portkey go?"

Pettigrew arrived, holding a horrible bundle.

"Try hitting him," Cedric hissed from behind a tombstone. Harry was about to snap at the Hufflepuff, when Wormtail ducked behind another tombstone.

"Does nobody have a spine anymore?" Harry demanded of no one in particular. "Come out and fight, you pathetic little rodent."

In Moody's office, Harry watched the Defense professor bubble and morph until he was none other than Barty Crouch Jr.

Crouch explained how his parents smuggled him from Azkaban, and how he had murdered his father. He explained capturing Mad-Eye Moody.

A goblin stood before Harry, holding out a sword to him. "A gift, Harry Potter, from the Goblin Nation. You have our allegiance."

Harry was once more falling into a pensieve. Morfin Gaunt, threatening a Ministry worker with a knife. Hissy Hissy little snake. Marvolo Gaunt found out his Pureblood but untalented daughter had a crush on the rich boy down the road, Tom Riddle. He saw Tom Marvolo Riddle as an eleven year old boy in the orphanage. He saw Tom Riddle, sixteen, ask an unknown person about Horcruxes and murder. He saw Tom Riddle, older now and a bit less handsome, apply for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

The night before his return to the castle. Harry made a trip of personal vengeance, accompanied by Ron, Fred, George, Seamus, and Dean. His partners in crime, so to speak.

Harry had purchased two cars especially for the occasion. He drove one, and Ron drove the other. A twin was with each, and Harry also took Seamus, while Ron drove Dean.

Fred was in the passenger's seat, killing a bottle of Jäger. "So, what's the game plan?" he asked. "We do have a plan, right?"

"Hell no. Just fuck 'em up."

"Yeehaa," Seamus said, his accent making it sound funnier.

The two cars came to a screeching halt in front of a normal looking house in a normal looking neighborhood. The tires on the driver's side of Ron's car drove up on the sidewalk.

They all jumped out of the cars and separated. Harry broke down the door with a forceful kick, breaking in easily. He began smashing stuff indiscriminately. Pictures on the wall revealed that he was at his relative's house. A bellow from upstairs said his uncle was awake. "What the bloody hell is going on?" an enraged voice shouted.

"Wake up, motherfuckers! It's party time!" Harry yelled. He went into the kitchen and started breaking the plates. Tipping the refrigerator over made him smile. Vernon burst into the room, and made to lunge for his nephew, but Harry threw a chair at him. "I am going to fuck up your life so bad, you'll wish you'd never said the word 'freak'." Harry cackled as he ran into another room.

He ran outside in time to see Seamus having a yelling match with the neighbor across the street. "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, old man!" the Irishman yelled as he threw a rock through the man's window.

"Oi, Vernon!" another neighbor yelled. "Is that your nephew? The one that you send to the loony bin, or something?"

"St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!" Vernon shouted back, trying to maintain some sense of normalcy as he chased Harry out the door. Well, Harry actually went out the front window, but Vernon used the door.

Fred and George lit the garage on fire using various alcohols as a accelerant. A few moments later, sirens could be heard in the night's silence. "Hurry it up, boys, we're going to have company!" Harry yelled, lighting the tree on fire that Marge's dog, Ripper, had chased him up when he was younger. "Burn the fucker down!"

Vernon yelled for his wife and son to get them out of the house. Leaving would be hard. Ron was jumping up and down on the hood of Vernon's car, denting it beyond repair. He then popped the hood and began ripping things out.

As the Dursley family finally exited in terror, Seamus moved around the house to the gas line. As the fire engine appeared on the street, Dean stood in front of it, stopping it's progress. "Get out of the way, kid! We have to put out the fire!" one of the firefighters yelled.

"Kid? Who the fuck are you! You're interrupting my bonfire, shit-for-brains!" Dean yelled.

The cue to leave was pretty much when Seamus jumped inside one of the cars. They all converged on the cars, jumped in, and sped off. Because the fire engine was in the way, Harry drove up on the sidewalk, making sure to tear up lawns as he went. Ron did the same on the other side.

Two minutes later, they heard an explosion. Seamus grinned. "Cigarette burned faster than I expected it to."

_And now, my dears, you have most of the story_

When the memories finished and the mist began to clear, every head in the hall turned to stare at Harry Potter. He was calmly eating toast, between Ron and Hermione, who were bickering about… something or other.

Delores Umbridge stood up, though no one noticed, and cleared her throat.

"It is obvious to me that Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger have broken more than school rules while at Hogwarts; they have broken laws. Laws set down to _protect_ the people. I have no choice but to inform the Ministry, and have these three arrested and sent to Azkaban!"

Harry calmly wiped his mouth and dropped his napkin on his plate as he stood. "A) I could break out of Azkaban. B) Inform away, Madam Umbridge, inform away. C) Read the law. The statute of limitations is up on all of those crimes. As minors, you had 365 days to charge us."

Umbridge looked slightly flustered. "That law can be changed."

"Ex post facto," Hermione said without looking up from the book she was lazily flipping through.

"You have committed _crimes_!" Umbridge bellowed.

"Yes," Harry said simply. "We know that, dear. We also know that there ain't shit you can do about it."

"You lying, cheating, manipulative-"

"Sounds like that one is for you, Headmaster," Harry said as he walked from the hall.

"Dumbledore, you must understand, man. They helped a convicted murderer escape!" Umbridge said, turning to the Headmaster. He smiled calmly.

"I know. I helped them," the Headmaster said. "And now that my secret is out, I think I have to kill you."

"_What_?" the short woman shrieked.

"Relax. I am only kidding. That is not my style."

"Potter, where do you think you're going?" Umbridge demanded. "The Aurors will be here to arrest you in a moment. I've sent them a signal."

Harry, who was at the door, turned on his heel and looked back at her in amusement. "You seem to misunderstand how things work. The Aurors will come. We will talk. I will not be arrested. It is a simple procedure. Got it?"

She drew herself up to her laughable height and huffed. "You may have weaseled your way out of charges last time, but you will not be so lucky today." Her evil little smile gave Harry a tension headache.

Harry glanced over at Ron. "This twisted bitch has no idea what she's talking about." Ron shook his head.

"It's sad, I think."

"Oh well, nothing for it, I guess."

"It has to be done," Ron said with a self-assured nod. Harry nodded with him.

He took out his wand, pointed it at Umbridge, and said the two words that ended her life. Several students screamed as the spell flew through the air and impacted Umbridge's chest, causing her to slump forward.

"Holy fuck!" one of the Weasley twins yelled. "You _killed_ her!"

Harry turned and looked at him with his brow furrowed. "Of course I did. I've wanted to do that _forever_. Wasn't she just as annoying as fuck? Who _didn't_ want to kill her?"

"Well, yeah, but we didn't!" Fred said, staring at Harry in shock.

Harry shrugged. "I have poor impulse control. Just ask my psychiatrist. I'm sure he's woken from his coma by now," Harry said. He turned to Ron. "Ready?"

Ron squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw. He looked like the battle-hardened soldier that Harry remembered. "No."

"Good!" Harry sent a bright silver patronus out the door, sending a message with it to be delivered at the gates of Hogwarts. "Because they'll be here in fifteen minutes."

"Who will be here in fifteen minutes?" Dumbledore demanded. Snape and Flitwick were staring down at Umbridge's body in shock. McGonagall looked like she didn't know who to yell at.

Harry glanced at the Headmaster and said, "My band of merry men."


	16. Morning Comes Only Through Shadows

**Chapter 15  
Morning Comes Only Through Shadows**

Draco Malfoy seemed to snap out of stupor. He stood and drew his wand, aiming it at Harry. Before he could say 'boo', the wand was out of his hand and in Harry's. The young Slytherin was also bound and gagged and left on the floor.

Before _that_ shock could wear off, a large black dog bounded into the room and transformed into an arrogant looking man named Sirius Black. "I win!" he yelled.

A man in a tattered robe sprinted in a came to a skidding halt next to Sirius. Remus Lupin glared at Sirius, and punched his arm with quite a bit of force. "Cheater."

"Hey!"

They were followed by Nyphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Percy Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, Aberforth Dumbledore, several Centaurs, a unit of Goblin warriors, and the Hogwarts House Elves.

"This isn't a band," Dumbledore said, moving around the staff table to meet Harry in the middle of the hall, "this is an army."

"But I would sound pretentious if I said 'my army', Headmaster."

"I'm surprised no on has murdered you out of sheer annoyance," Dumbledore said.

"Me too." Harry smirked and sent another patronus out the door, deftly dodging Dumbledore, who tried to stop him.

"What was that?" the Headmaster asked.

"Well, Voldemort will be here within the hour." The hard look that Dumbledore gave him was a bit amusing to Harry. "Fine. Let's call a group meeting, and I'll let you in on the plan."

The students were all gathered in the back of the room, around the staff table, as Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Dean, Seamus, and Ginny talked to the Order of the Phoenix.

"You want me to _what_?" Dumbledore asked Harry, who only smiled in return.

Fawkes appeared between the two men, and landed on the Headmaster's shoulder. Dumbledore turned to Harry and nodded.

When everyone was in place, they waited several minutes for something to happen. The tension was palpable, with people snapping at each other over silly things. Moody was upset over the color of Tonks' hair, Remus was still upset at Sirius for cheating, Molly was just upset with the twins in general.

As they waited, a single man walked into the hall, dressed in a Death Eaters robe and mask. "The Dark Lord asks for the immediate surrender of Harry Potter. He has promised to harm nobody but the Potter boy."

"Like hell," Ron said.

"I-"

"Case closed," Ron continued. "Go tell Voldemort he can fuck himself."

The Death Eater drew himself up and seemed quite indignant. "Severus," he said, "our Master wishes you to join him."

Without a word, Snape began to walk toward the other man. When the unknown Death Eater turned his back, Snape moved behind him and wrapped something around his neck, and pulled tight. There was a struggle, until the Death Eater hit he ground, dead and bleeding from the neck. Snape stood there, holding a piano wire tied to a piece of wood at each end.

Without looking at Harry, Snape said, "When we were nine, Potter, your mother taught me to play the piano."

Harry stared at him for a moment. Snape didn't know that Harry knew that Snape knew his mother before Hogwarts. That was a major revelation for the man. Nodding, Harry said, "Voldemort will wonder where he went."

"I don't care," Snape said. "The Dark Lord already knew of my treachery. This is just cake icing."

"Icing on the cake," Harry said.

It took only twenty minutes. After that, the doorway was lined with Death Eaters. Harry decided they were Death Eater infantry, because they were all young and nervous.

"Easy pickins," Ron said. He looked to Harry, who nodded.

The young Death Eaters began throwing curses, which were blocked and returned by the Order. The young men in the doorway were very inexperienced.

After they were all taken out, a new, older group of Death Eaters moved in. In their midst was Lord Voldemort, in all his menacing glory.

The students at the back of the hall screamed. Some of the younger students cried. The Order paused, eyes wide. Nothing had prepared most of them for coming face-to-face with the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Harry looked at Voldemort, then at the ring of seemingly frozen people around them. He held his hands out to his sides and smirked. "If you're going to kill me, Tom, now is a wonderful time."

"Ah, ah, ah. I do so wish to revel in my victory. Is this Harry Potter… giving up?"

"Giving up?" Harry asked with a calm, confident smile. "No, not giving up. This is me willing to die for every single person in this room. This is me, dying so that my friends may live. My family. Hagrid, the first friend I ever made. Ron, who has alternated between insane jealousy of me, and saving my life. Hermione, who has frankly gotten me through school because I couldn't be bothered to actually do anything. Mrs. Weasley, who invited me into her home and has made it her life mission to make sure I do not wither away. I will die for them today, Tom, because I love them."

Harry _needed_ Voldemort to kill him. It was imperative. But the man was acting like a bad villain in a B movie. "_Love_," spat Voldemort, his eyes blazing.

Time to insult and torment. "Oh, you wouldn't know much of it. There's never been any love in your life; even your conception. Fairly pathetic that your mother had to resort to a love potion to get your muggle father to fuck her, isn't it?"

"Silence!" Voldemort snapped.

"Wasn't exactly a head-turner, was she, Tom? Years of pureblood inbreeding does that, I suppose. No, Merope Gaunt wasn't exactly fighting them off. Perhaps she could have been married off to a pureblood with even a little bit of money… if she could do a simple summoning charm without exhausting her magical expertise."

"Shut up, Potter," Voldemort said. He seemed quite put out that Harry was stealing his moment of glory.

"Muggle father, pathetic witch mother. From that match, I'm surprised you can wipe your own ass, let alone get sparks out of a wand. You must have worked so hard in school to make sure no one found out about your parents. It must have ignited a real inferiority complex, hmm? I'm sure that wasn't helped when Annette Robins kicked you in the nuts to deny your advances in your fourth year, hmm? And in such a public fashion. It must have taken _months_ for people to forget that. Is that why you never had children? Or is it because you never got much past the undressing stage with a woman? All talk and no cock, hmm? Frankly, I don't think there's supposed to be _that_ much laughter in the bedroom."

"Shut up, shut up,_ shut up_!" Voldemort bellowed. His silencing spells weren't working. He was also only able to speak when Potter paused, for whatever reason. Probably some clever spell the mudblood bitch had come across. Worst of all, some of the students seemed to be trying to contain laughter.

"But you showed them, didn't you? You showed them who could be laughed at. You killed all of the women who laughed at you, including Annette Robins! Hunted her down a few years later, didn't you? You stalked her like a hungry lion on a gazelle. You watched her for weeks, followed her everywhere. There she was, on her way up at the Ministry of Magic, and there you were, a lowly clerk at Borgin and Burkes! So you followed her into her house, raped her, and then used a blasting hex on her head. Brains sprayed everywhere, didn't they?"

"So what if they did?" Voldemort demanded.

"At one point, you disappeared for ten years, and very few people know what the hell happened to you. You underwent rituals, trying to gain immortality. That was only one part of it, wasn't it, Tom? That's the part you told your followers. You didn't mention to them that you also hunted down, stalked, raped, and murdered every woman that had spurned you. Laughed at you. Mocked you."

"Who were they to laugh at Lord Voldemort?"

"You did this until one of your rituals went wrong. You found yourself quite unable to perform. I guess it just proved all those women right, did it not? You were no longer a man, and you knew it. So, you decided to come out as Lord Voldemort, and try to regain some of that power those women had taken from you."

"Yes!" Voldemort thundered. His eyes were screaming rage. "I showed everybody! Now I have the last laugh! _Avada Kedavra_!"

The green spell flew at Harry, who calmly said, "You lose," just as the spell hit his chest. His body fell back.

Those gathered in the hall stared in shock at Harry's body. He was laying as if asleep, with his arms spread at either side. His eyes remained open in death, and their deep, dead green stared directly at Severus Snape. '

Voldemort seemed as shocked as anybody else. "It worked!" he exclaimed, and for a solitary moment, he was a little boy on Christmas morning. "I have finally killed Harry Potter!" He turned to his followers, expecting elation, and he got confusion.

"My Lord," Avery said without much reverence, "your father was a muggle?"

"You're half-blood?" another asked. Rookwood and several others stared at him in something close to contempt.

With the in-fighting between Voldemort and his Death Eaters, none noticed when Harry blinked, except Severus Snape.

The dark-eyed man tried to determine if it was merely a postmortem muscle spasm. He had seen it before. But he dearly wished that it was not. The sight of Lily Evans' dead eyes was nearly too much for him. Another blink.

Not a blink.

_Two_ eyes blink.

_One_ eye winks.

Potter had winked at him.

That little _brat_.

Albus watched as Harry winked at Severus, who looked a bit peeved. Harry gave the smallest twitch of his hand, and Albus approached him. "Tom," Albus said calmly, silencing the Death Eaters, "you have made a grave mistake by killing him."

"Oh?" Voldemort asked with a sneer. "And what would that be?"

"The diary. The locket. The cup. The ring. The diadem. The snake. Was there not one more?"

"No, those are all I made," Voldemort said. "It is a pity they are gone, but who cares now? Harry Potter is dead."

"You made one more, the night that you killed James and Lily Potter, and tried to murder their son. You murdered that night, Tom; your soul had split. A piece of your soul found its way to the safest place it could locate."

Voldemort's eyes slowly, very slowly, travelled from Albus' down to Harry's body. "Harry died for these people tonight, Tom. Do you really think you can hurt them?"

Voldemort sent a Killing Curse at Molly Weasley, and it hit square. Her family screamed in shock and anger. Molly, however, did not die. "What is this?" Voldemort asked, stepping closer to Harry.

"Harry did the same for these people, for the entire world, that his mother did for him all those years ago. You will not be able to kill any of them."

"Lies," Voldemort said with a smug smirk. "No magic of Potter's is so powerful as to protect every magical being."

"I said world, Tom, not wizards. Every human on Earth. Harry's death also destroyed your last remaining soul. Do you know what that means?" Albus asked. Voldemort began to sneer, but Albus said, "You're mortal again, Tom."

With little effort, Albus seized Harry's shoulders and launched the teen at Voldemort. With a mighty swing of a blade, Harry cleanly sliced Voldemort in two.

Nobody moved for several seconds as Harry stood staring down at the body of Voldemort. Harry turned to Dumbledore and said, "You were _supposed_ to _warn _me when you were going to _throw_ me at _the Dark Lord_!" Using that as a distraction, Harry swung around and decapitated Avery. "Crazy old man, just tossing people at insane murderous maniacs." Harry relieved another Death Eater of his head in a swift swipe.

It was then that the Death Eaters realized they were in serious danger. Half of them threw down their wands. "You people just sucked half the fun out of this," Harry said angrily.

The rest of the Death Eaters were rounded up. When that was done, Harry searched all of his pockets, and then looked around the room. He walked over to Dumbledore and began patting his pockets, as well. He found what he was looking for and shoved his hand in a large pocket of the Headmaster's robe. The older man gave him a partially curious, partially scandalized look. "Aha!" Harry said, retrieving a full-size bottle of whiskey.

"How did that get there?" Dumbledore asked.

"I didn't want it to break when I died," replied Harry. He pulled the cork and finished half the bottle without taking a breath. Harry turned to Ron, and they gave each other a significant look. With nods, they turned back on the Death Eaters. With a conjured beater's bat, Harry smashed in the skull of one of the younger minions.

He and Ron continued on, joined by Fred and George, Seamus, Dean, and Neville, until Voldemort's followers were nothing more than bloody, broken corpses. Neville managed to get his hands on Bellatrix Lestrange, and he spent five minutes smashing in her face.

A few of the Death Eaters managed to fight back. Harry had to fight off a fire that burned a great deal of his torso. Harry grabbed Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy each by an ear and marched them over to Draco, who was standing stock still and wide eyed. "Sit down," Harry ordered.

"Potter," Lucius began to say.

"I said _sit_!" snapped Harry.

Once they had done so, Harry went back to fighting the Death Eaters. Students who were nearby were scrambling away, frightened. Several of the teachers and Order members had joined the fray, intent upon settling things.

In the confusion, two or three dark wizards escaped. Albus grabbed Harry's wrist mid-swing, as the boy was bludgeoning an already-dead man. "He's dead, Harry. You can stop."

Harry backed away, nodding. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were stinging from blood that had splattered into them.

"We get em all?" Harry asked, not looking at the older man.

"Mostly. A few escaped. Now we must clean up and get out lives back in order."

Harry called for everyone to back away from the bodies. "What'cha doin, Harry?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked down at all of the corpses and took out his wand. Drawing a deep breath, he raised his wand and cast a spell.

Flames like those of hell poured forth from his wand, devouring the bodies as it went. Snakes, dragons, and chimeras danced in the flames, hissing and snarling.

After another moment or two, the flames disappeared. The bodies were nothing more than fine ash, cremated by the deadly fire.

"Fiendfyre, mate?" Ron asked. "I always knew you were crazy."

Dumbledore stared at him in disapproval. Most everyone stared in shock. Harry used a spell that conjured wind to blow the ash out the door.

After everything was taken care of, the teachers set to work getting everything back in order. The students, many of whom were close to hysteria, were sent to bed.

The Headmaster said that the students would go home the next day. Remus and Sirius rushed up to Harry and pulled him into a hug. They lectured him on taunting Dark Lords and getting himself murdered.

Molly Weasley nearly suffocated him with her hug. She alternated between praising him and scolding him. That seemed to be the general reaction of everyone he talked to.

The next day, Harry rode the train home with the rest of the students. In London, Hermione looked at him and Ron, and smiled. "I'm glad its over," she said quietly.

"Me too, Hermione," Harry replied.

He was to spend the summer at Grimmauld Place, helping Sirius fix it up. Remus was staying with him, until he could get a job as a muggle teacher.

Everyone Harry knew arrived for his sixteenth/sixtieth birthday.

During the general festivities, Sirius cleared his throat. When that did not garner attention, he bellowed for silence. When he had the attention of the entire room, Sirius took a sip of his drink, a mixture of soda and rum, and then said, "I have something to tell you. And here it is." After a pause of several seconds, during which everyone continued to stare at him, Sirius said, "Remus has an announcement."

Eyes turned to Remus, causing his cheeks to pink just a little. "Hi. I wanted to tell everybody that about a year ago, my kidneys began to fail. There is nothing magic can do to undo the kind of damage done from continued use of several potions. In place of letting me die," Remus said, swallowing convulsively, "Harry donated a kidney to me."

Harry experienced a wave of affection aimed at him, and Molly Weasley kissed his forehead. "It was very kind of him," Remus continued. "And it helped me in ways I didn't think possible." Looking at Harry, the ex-professor said, "I have not experienced a full transformation since I received the kidney." There was a general outburst of surprise. "I did not tell anyone in the event it was a fluke. However, I have discussed it with several Healers, and they believe that I have not transformed because I am no longer fully a werewolf, as at least a part of me is fully human. The general consensus is that I will continue to act differently on the full moon, but-"

"But the Healers likened it to women and PMS!" Sirius cut in. "He's gunna be bitchy and cranky, but not bloodthirsty."

Every one in the room cheered, and laughed, and hugged Remus. The atmosphere of the party improved even more, and the group moved into the kitchen.

At the dinner table, Harry drank several glasses of whiskey, and let something odd slip out. He mentioned missing his kids.

"What about children, Harry?" Molly asked. All of the guests were looking at him. Albus cleared his throat.

"I believe what Harry was saying-"

Molly cut the Headmaster off. "I asked Harry, Albus."

"We're fucked," Ron said, finishing his glass in one go.

"How long did you really think we could keep this up, Ron?" Harry demanded. Harry turned to Molly and said, "I turn sixty today. Ron and I have done all this before. We went back in time and landed on the day I was chosen as Champion. I was married to Ginny, and Ron was married to Hermione."

"What are you saying, Harry?" Molly asked quietly. She looked between Harry and Ron for several seconds. "You're actually from the future?"

"They are, Molly," Albus said with his usual calm manner. "They have now lived sixty years. I am sorry, this must be very hard for you."

"Hard, Albus?" Molly asked. She was using the tone she used when she was trying to be calm, but was about to explode. "You just told me that my _baby boy_ is sixty years old! How am I supposed to take that? How could I believe that?"

Wordlessly, Harry raised a hand and summoned a pensieve to the table. "If I may?" he asked needlessly. He raised his wand and drew several memories from his mind and placed them into the swirling liquid gas. "After you, I think, Headmaster," he said.

Albus, Minerva, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, Snape, Bill, Charlie, and Tonks all piled into the memory before Harry and Ron followed.

They were in the main hall of the Ministry, and there were hundreds of people there. It seemed to be a ball of some sort, but none like any Albus had ever seen. Ministry Balls were usually dry and boring, with mindless ass-kissing and networking.

This, however, was a festival. The dress was casual, with men wearing blue muggle trousers, and women wearing the same, or short skirts. There seemed to be no hierarchy. At balls Albus had seen, the rich and powerful always had groups of lackeys and adoring fans surrounding them simpering and drooling.

At this function, however, everyone seemed to be mingling and talking as equals. It was impossible to decipher who had how much money, and who was employed as what.

A stage stood at the eastern most wall of the room, with a huge banner behind it, emblazoned with the Ministry seal. On the other side of the room was a statue, or, as Albus realized, a memorial.

The statue was composed of several figures, himself included. He himself, Fred Weasley, Dobby, Griphook, Severus Snape, Mad-Eye Moody, and Tom Riddle at about seventeen. The statue was carved from a very beautiful black stone, and was unpolished.

Fred stood behind Dobby, next to Albus, smiling broadly and holding a deck of cards. Dobby was smiling as well, dressed in his bizarre array of clothing. Next to him stood Griphook, smiling in the way goblins do, baring his teeth. He was holding a single, gold galleon. Behind and slightly to the side of Griphook was Mad-Eye Moody. They statue accurately captured his whirling eye and scarred face. In front of Moody and slightly to the side was Severus Snape, dressed as a Death Eater and holding a mask. He was sneering and his eyes looked angry. Next to him, away from the rest, was a seventeen year old Tom Riddle. He was dressed in his Hogwarts robes, with his Slytherin crest and Head Boy badge proudly displayed, his eyes glowing with hatred.

Between Mad-Eye and Fred, but slightly behind them, stood Albus Dumbledore. He was wearing resplendent robes and a small, mischievous smile. His eyes all but sparkled behind his glasses. He was holding a bag of what anyone who knew him would guess to be candy.

"What is that?" Sirius asked Harry, indicating the statue. Harry turned to look, and smiled.

"That's a good story," the man replied. "It is a memorial statue of the War. When the sculptor first unveiled it, he animated it for some reason. Bad idea, obviously. When it was carved, Sirius and Remus were there as well. As it is, they instantly ran off to cause chaos. We decided to do something else with the statue. If you would, please, stand a few feet over there and look at it."

The group did so. The statue changed as they moved. The faces lost their smiles; they became angry, fierce and determined. Albus' eyes lost their sparkle, Fred's face distorted. Dobby looked murderous, with one arm raised in front of him and his fingers flexed. Griphook stood holding a battle axe, ready to attack. Severus held a wand high, poised to strike, snarling. Tom Riddle had aged to Voldemort, and his cold eyes almost burned to look at. Dumbledore held the elder wand. In fact, Mad-Eye looked rather the same.

"Intriguing," Albus said calmly. "What is going on here?"

"A party," Ron answered. "It is the fortieth anniversary of the downfall of Voldemort. We celebrate it, and use it as a fundraiser to raise money for orphaned children, and to help children go to Hogwarts that can't afford it, and several other things to that effect."

"I see," Albus said.

A commotion at the end of the hall by the stage drew their attention. A man was standing on the stage, gaining everyone's attention with an intense stare. He was an older man, barely middle-age by magical standards, wearing blue trousers similar to everyone else, but his were faded and well-worn. He wore a short-sleeved black shirt with stylized writing on it, which Albus could not make out.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a deep voice called, "welcome to this year's commemorative event! Already, we have collected nine-thousand galleons! This year, our goal is fifty-thousand! And that, my dears, means y'all gotta ante up!"

"Oh, dear," Albus said.

"Harry…" Hermione said, "is that you?"

Their Harry, standing next to them, nodded with a smile.

A group of people from the memory, standing only a few feet away, were talking in low tones. "It's so sad, what happened to him, you know? He was two or three years ahead of me at Hogwarts," one woman said.

"Oh, shush, Annabelle," her friend said. "You were a year behind him."

"Same difference," Annabelle said with a sniff. "Anyway, he was a sweet guy. Always quiet and courteous, you know. I say it was the bitch he married that drove him to the bottle."

Annabelle's other friend said, "Ginny Weasley? I can see it. She was nice, years ago, but what was her deal with the Judicial Reform? Her husband and brother were the authors of it, and she publicly denounces it?"

"What?" a fourth friend asked.

"Oh, right, dear, you didn't live in this country," Annabelle said. "Well, the man on stage is Harry Potter, AKA richest man in the world. The fundraiser tonight? He matches every galleon donated. Wonderful man. Crazy drunkard, of course, but sweet as can be. About twenty years ago, he and his brother-in-law, the Minister of Magic Ron Weasley, proposed the use of humane executions for Dark Wizards. Well, it was sensational. It was a unanimous vote in the Wizengamot. Almost everyone loved their idea. Except their wives and children, of course. Both marriages broke up."

"I hear the Granger girl is the new Professor McGonagall," the second friend said.

"What else do you expect? All through Hogwarts, she spent all of her time studying. I wonder if her husband found her as cold in bed as she seemed at school."

"Ellen!" Annabelle said, shocked. She furtively looked around, and then smiled. "I wondered the same thing. Sometimes I wondered how she remembered to eat. Awful girl."

"Truly," the third friend said.

"Now, I think it's great that they seem to have made up a bit in the last few years," the second friend said. "It's better for the kids and grandkids that way. Did you hear that he's due to be a grandfather again? That will be twenty now."

"How wonderful! Twins must run on his wife's side. Potter's are known for having only one child," Annabelle said. Her friends all nodded.

"I'm a bitch?" Ginny asked. She turned to Harry as asked, "Is that why you've been acting strange the last few years? Because I divorced you?"

"I decline to comment."

"Damn it, Harry, talk to me!" Ginny said.

"I have been acting strangely toward you these last few years because it is very odd for me to see someone with whom I fathered three children suddenly turned into a thirteen-year-old girl. I like them young, but I am not a pedophile," Harry said, looking around the room. "You must remember that I am now sixty-years-old. You are a fourth of my age now, Ginny."

Ginny nodded silently. "What about us, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"What about us?" he inquired. "You decided you couldn't stand me, and left with half of my money. Full stop. Did it hurt? Yeah. Did I get over it? Yeah. Did I move on? Yeah."

"Moved on to every woman's bed in Great Britain," Harry said snidely.

"Oh yeah? Hey, Potter, why don't you take a trip to St. Mungos. One of your girlfriends is bound to be born today," the red head retaliated.

Harry chuckled. "Don't insult me. My girlfriends won't be born for another ten years."

Sirius wiped away a fake tear. "He takes after me," the man said.

"Heaven help us," Remus and Minerva said together.

The man on the stage was introducing (and mocking) some of the donators, who took it all in good humor. Suddenly, two redheaded men stormed the stage, and began singing. Albus recognized Ron and George Weasley. The two brothers were on either side of Harry, holding him in place with arms around his shoulders. "_You said 'we die alone'; in this case you were right. No friends by your side or family in sight. There'll be no talking your way out this time, so don't count the cash cause you leave it behind_."

"Piss off," Harry said on the stage. "I'm working a crowd here, punks."

"_See it's hard to have faith in something so new when you're loyal to no one, no one but you_!" The two men finished the song after another moment, leaving the stage at a sprint.

"Thank you, dears, that was lovely. Now, back to what I was saying. As you all well know, today celebrates forty years since some tosser offed Voldemort. Just goes to show that sometimes even the village idiot does something right! Tonight's festivities include musical performances and other such things. As your ever personable Master of Ceremonies, I can personally testify as to the quality of the alcohol served here tonight. My BFF and I have spent the last six hours sampling everything for quality control! Coincidentally… We're out of rum!"

People laughed and music started playing. There was an eruption of dancing and talking. Albus' eyes followed the older-looking Harry across the hall. There was a burst of whispers as Ginny Weasley (Potter?) entered with three people, who were each surrounded by a small army of adolescents.

"Oh, goodness," the informative witch a few feet from them exclaimed in a whisper. "Harry's kids haven't come to one of these fundraisers in years. They don't speak, you know."

Indeed, Harry glanced over at his family, but continued speaking with the formally-dressed Auror by the door. After that, he did an about-face and moved on to work the crowd. The memory skipped several hours, and Harry was once more on stage. He was obviously slightly intoxicated, because he was leaning on what Hermione explained to the group to be a microphone stand.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Harry half-roared into the muggle voice amplifier, "It is my pleasure to announce that due to your generous contributions this year and in years past, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the worlds leasing school in the magical world, is now, and forever shall be, free for all young witches and wizards who accept their Hogwarts letter!

The roar of the crowd was deafening. People jumped up and down, cups of alcohol were thrown about, and people applauded for at least a minute straight. Harry had to bellow for attention.

"Yes, yes, yes, it is wonderful. Now, to the good shit. This year, our modest little fundraiser raised… seventy-five-thousand galleons, bitches!" Harry screamed. "Which brings the total up to one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand galleons this year!"

The memory fizzled and changed, and suddenly they were in the bowels of the Ministry, in the same room Sirius Black had died. Harry was standing next to Ron, and both were in front of a group of Ministry officials. A man of about seventy was brought in with his hands tied and a cold look on his face. He snarled at the sight of Harry and Ron, who looked completely calm.

"Andrew Montague," Ron said, reading from a scroll, "you have been convicted of having served the Dark Lord Voldemort, willingly and with no coercion. The sentence for this heinous act is death by way of Killing Curse, performed by Harry Potter, Ministry Executioner. Do you have any words to speak, Montague?"

The man stared at Harry before he said, "I once knew a man much like you, decades ago. Walden MacNair, I believe you knew him? He enjoyed killing, as well. How do you feel about that, Potter?"

Harry smirked. "Not as bad as you may think," he replied. "Aurors?"

Montague was placed in front of the veil. "Remember when Bellatrix killed your godfather, right here? How do you like that comparison?"

"I've heard it before, actually. Minister?" Harry asked without looking at Ron.

"Do any of the assembled members of the Wizengamot have any objections to the execution of this man?" Ron asked. When there was no answer from the Wizengamot, Ron turned to Harry and said, "Harry James Potter, you are hereby vested with the power to end the life of Andrew McLairen Montague."

"_Avada Kedavra_," Harry said without emotion. Montague fell through the veil, never to be seen again. A small smirk played on Harry's face. He turned slightly to look at Ron and said, "Beer?"

"Yup."

The memory changed again, and again, and again. The whole experience showed two very unhappy, unfulfilled lives. Both men were drunkards, and spent most of their time working or drinking, or both. Harry, who functioned as an Auror when there was no one to kill, tracked down Dark Wizards with reckless determination. Both men also spent time overhauling Azkaban, getting rid of the Dementors and making it more like a muggle prison.

The group stepped out of the pensieve and stared at each other. "Well, that was thoroughly depressing," Sirius said. "Way to grow up to be a has-been."

Harry smirked. "Thanks, Sirius. You know just what to say to make a guy feel all warm and fuzzy."

"Funny, I usually reserve that for women!" Remus slapped the back of Sirius' head.

"Children are present."

"Sorry, Ginny," Sirius said with a straight face.

"I think," Snape said from his position brooding in the corner, "that I have been right all this time; Potter is good for nothing."

"Snape, you're a complete bastard, but I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry said.

Ron looked to Molly, who had tears in her eyes. She suddenly burst into sobs and wailed, "Where did I go wrong?" The Weasley Matriarch ran from the room and her husband followed her.

The man that had once been Minister of Magic looked to Harry Potter and said, "I could have put money on her saying that. Lots of money."

"I'm surprised she didn't say it sooner," replied Harry. The dark-haired man rolled his neck and then moved into the kitchen. He could be heard rummaging around. He must have found what he was looking for, because the room went silent only a moment later.


	17. Many Who Die Deserve Life

**Chapter 17  
Many Who Die Deserve Life**

"I think that we need to all sit down and have a nice cup of-" The Headmaster was interrupted by the sound of a cork popping.

"Whiskey!" Ron thundered, exiting the room with the air of a man much older.

Harry and Ron entered the room with three bottles and several glasses.

"Is this how you deal with emotional turmoil?" Hermione asked, eying the bottles with distaste.

Ron stared at her, and blinked a few times. "Yep."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ugh. You two are ridiculous."

Albus found himself with a glass of whiskey in his hand and fond Snape in the same boat. Sirius and Remus, never ones to let a drink go to waste, cheers'ed and then went bottoms up.

Everyone sat back, with Ginny and Hermione drinking tea, and talked. They talked about Harry and Ron as adults, about Bellatrix Lestrange, about Voldemort, about Hogwarts.

Conversation slowly drifted to Dumbledore's past. Remus and Sirius avidly asked questions, but Dumbledore became more and more uncomfortable as each got further and further in the past.

"You have a brother?" Sirius asked in awe.

Dumbledore nodded. "He is three years younger than me. He owns and operated the Hogshead."

"Ab is your brother?" Remus asked in shock.

Minerva smirked and asked, "Why are you on a first name basis with the owner of a shady pub?"

Remus' eyes went wide. His mouth opened and closed for several moments. "Uh…"

"Why are you calling my brother's pub 'shady', Minerva?" Albus asked, smiling benignly.

Minerva got a look that was alarmingly like Remus had worn. "Uh…" she said.

Sirius, characteristically unable to contain himself, burst forth with the question, "What about the rest of your family, Albus?"

"Well," the Headmaster said, "I had a mother, Kendra, and a father, Percival, and Aberforth. I also had a younger sister." The last bit was spoken very quietly. Sirius didn't seem to notice.

"A sister? What happened to her?"

"I think we need more whiskey," Harry announced. He stood and moved to the kitchen. "Headmaster, could you help me with this? The bottle is too high, and because of this retarded Trace, I can't get it down."

When Dumbledore entered the kitchen, Harry turned to him with the bottle already in his hand. "I can confund him," Harry said easily.

Dumbledore smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Harry, but I can handle it."

"If you're sure…" Harry walked to the door and loudly said, "Thanks, sir."

When he and the Headmaster returned to the sitting room, Molly and Arthur had also reentered. Everyone was sitting in silence, rather uncomfortable.

Molly spoke first. "I would like to know what made my son, my wonderful baby son, think of reinstating executions. I would like to know what turned my only daughter's wonderful husband into a cold-blooded killer."

Harry and Ron looked between each other, uncomfortable. "We don't think it's-"

"Allow me to rephrase," Molly said calmly. "Tell me. Now."

"Bill had a daughter named Victoire," Ron said. He downed another shot. "She started dating Teddy Lupin, Harry's godson, at Hogwarts. They married as soon as she finished school. It was soon after that they had a baby. A little boy named Remus. He was part veela, and part metamorphmagus, with some qualities of a werewolf."

Bill and Charlie high-fived. "Veela. Sweet," they both said. Remus and Tonks eyed each other, slightly red-faced

"Fleur, to be precise," Harry said. "Now, it was a big event, of course."

"Harry's godson having a kid?" Ron said sarcastically. "It was a media circus. Huge deal."

"Ron and I could not make it to the birth. A man had escaped from Azkaban, you see, and being the top two Aurors, we had to deal with it."

"Being the two blokes that set up the new prison also made it a matter of pride," Ron added.

Harry nodded. "The man that escaped got his hands on a newspaper. The birth was front page news. He wanted revenge."

"See, Harry and I had put him in prison. So, the best target he could think of was my great-nephew and the son of Harry's godson, who happened to be the same person."

"Also my great-nephew by marriage."

"You're first great-grandchild, mum," Ron said. Molly had tears in her eyes.

"We never expected him to go to the hospital, of course," Harry said.

"No way. But he got in without being detected."

"Found the right room," Harry continued.

"And killed Remus Lupin II, who was all of twelve hours old."

"And he did not use the Killing Curse," Harry finished. Molly burst into tears. Many others had tears in their eyes, as well. Bill looked ready to hex someone. "And so, Teddy and I tracked this man down. And we did not use the Killing Curse."

"I want to see the memory," Bill said sharply.

"Bill, it is not your life," Charlie said. "It won't happen this time."

"But it did happen! And it was my grandson! And I want to see it!"

Harry conceded and put the memory in the pensieve. Everyone followed Bill into the past that had never happened in their lives.

This Harry was about forty, and looked as if he had not slept in six weeks. Young Teddy Lupin, about twenty-three, was running beside him, a look of rage on his face so fierce that people in Diagon Ally leapt out of their way. They were chasing an older man, and they were right on his heels.

Remus took a moment to look at the son he had never had. Teddy was about his height, and had his eyes, a soft amber that could be warm or cold. His hair was dark, blood red and shaved close to his head.

The young man shot forward and tackled the fleeing murdered to the ground, and proceeded to pound him rather effectively with his fists. Harry revived the man each time he lost consciousness. "_You-murdered-my-son_!" Teddy screamed, slamming his fist into the man's chest and face over and over again.

"Teddy," Harry said calmly. As soon as he did, Teddy returned to his feet and looked down at the bleeding man. He was slightly bent over and panting, but the rage on his face had not dissipated. "You are a very unlucky man indeed, Mr. Nott. You see, that baby you just murdered was a nephew of mine." Harry's voice was soft, calm. It was not unlike that of Severus Snape's, when the man was _really_ working up a rage.

"I know it," Nott said, spitting out blood. "Little shit had it coming."

"And how, prey tell, does a newborn have anything coming to it?" Harry asked.

"It wasn't even human! Veela, werewolf, morpher. I went after it because of it's relation to you and Weasley, Potter. Putting down a beast was a bonus. Go on, then, take me back to Azkaban."

Harry's right eyebrow rose so smoothly that it seemed to not be attached to his face. Something else he had learned from Severus Snape. "You seem confused. You will not be returned to Azkaban. You see, people who murder members of my family do not get the privilege of prison."

"Where, then-"

"Kingdom come," Harry said, still in a smooth, even tone. He raised his hand and muttered a string of words that were hardly audible. Nott rose ten feet into the air and let out a long, inhuman scream. Harry and Teddy watched impassively. Harry put his arm around his godson's shoulders. Nott continued screaming.

Arthur Weasley, seventy-years-old but still young at heart, jogged up to the two men and also watched the screaming man. He had a look of anger and grief on his face so contrary to his usual look that everyone that saw him was taken aback. "Is that…?" Arthur asked.

Harry and Teddy nodded. Ron approached wearing Auror robes and a dark look, also contrary to his usual countenance. "Is that…?"

Harry, Teddy, and Arthur nodded.

Bill Weasley, who had scars across his face that looked old but still noticeable on his face, ran up to them. He was fifty and had barely changed his appearance. He still wore his hair long, and dragon skin boots.

"Kill him," Bill snapped.

"I feel obliged to tell you that that is illegal," Harry said without conviction.

"He murdered my grandson. Kill him," Bill ordered once more.

Harry muttered some more words, and Nott's limbs began to slowly twist. They twisted more and more, until pops and snaps could be heard. When his arms and legs were broken, Harry woke him up once more. His back slowly began to bend backward, until his spine snapped. Blood was dripping onto the cobblestones from his prone body, where the sharp bones had pierced through skin.

Nott's body hit the ground. Teddy walked forward and kicked him, hard, in the ribs. Harry vanished the body, but the blood remained. "Call Theodore Nott," he said to a young Auror that had just arrived. "He's got a bloodstain to clean up."

They left the memory, and there was not a dry eye in the room. "I opposed you murdering that prick?" Ginny demanded.

"Yes," Harry said simply. "You and Hermione both. I was certainly confused."

"How did you get from that to executions?" Hermione asked.

"Ron ran for office. He and I were popular blokes, see," Harry said. "His platform was executions and strict punishments for criminals. It got him elected. It took a while to actually get the law passed and everything."

"And we couldn't kill the people that were already in jail."

"Just the people we convicted after the law passed," said Harry. "After that, execution was the automatic punishment for a capital crime."

"So, if you were convicted of murder, you were automatically sentenced to death," Ron stated. "And, for the most part, it worked."

"Executions were always scheduled for exactly two years after sentencing, to allow for appeals." Harry smirked at Ron. "Not that an appeal ever worked."

Ron looked to his family and the rest of the people in the room. "You guys have to understand, after the fall of Voldemort, crime rates went up. People stopped fearing that the person they were stealing from or kidnapping or murdering was a Death Eater, or related to one."

"There was also a population boom," Harry told them.

"With a surprising number of boys named 'Harry' entering Hogwarts after 2010. So with so many people, there was less familiarity. It was almost impossible to ever go into a store and see the same clerk twice. Nobody knew everybody."

"Families declined, as well. About twenty years after the fall of Voldemort, nobody was a 'Malfoy' or an 'Abbot' or a 'Bones'. Unless you were well known from the final battle… well."

"Young Scorpius Malfoy entered Hogwarts, and was more than shocked to find that people did not really know of his father."

"Remember how Malfoy met me?" Ron asked. " 'You must be a Weasley'. Well, that did not happen much. And, with so many muggleborns and such, family names just were not as important."

"So no family had a reputation of who not to mess with. Except, really, the Weasleys, but that was just because there were so damn many."

Ron nodded sagely. "As Aunt Muriel once said, Weasleys breed like gnomes."

"The Bones, Abbot's, and Greengrass names all died out, because the girls all married. The Lovegood name…" Harry looked to Ron.

"She kept her name after her marriage, see. But she was raped and murdered."

"And I, therefore, got to kill the prick who shall remain nameless."

Everybody sat in silence for a few minutes. Snape suddenly rounded on Albus with a sneer. "You knew about this the whole time!" he snapped.

"Naturally," Albus said with a smile. "That day back in their fourth year, the day before the students arrived from foreign schools. I found it slightly odd that Harry Potter suddenly thought I had been dead for several decades. I confirmed the fact by looking through Harry's memories."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Severus asked.

One of Albus' eyebrows rose just a bit, and he smiled. "How would it have affected you, Severus? Would it have been good for you to know that two of your least favorite students were suddenly fifteen years older than you? That they know things about you that you don't want any person to ever know? That Harry witnessed your death? It would not have been good for you, Severus."

"That wasn't your choice," Severus snapped.

"No," Harry said, a cold tone in his voice, "it was mine. It was my secret to tell. Mine, and Ron's. It had nothing to do with you."

Severus rounded on Harry, who had no reaction beyond a small smirk. "As a Hogwarts professor, I have every right to know what goes on in the castle."

Harry viciously projected a thought into Severus' mind, causing the man to stumble back. "Be careful what you wish for, Snape."

"What, in god's name, was that?" the potions master demanded.

"Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson having _really_ kinky sex in the dungeon," answered Harry. "But you want to know _everything_ that happens in the castle. Stand still; I have a couple more."

"Don't you dare, Potter," snapped Severus.

Albus admitted to himself that he was rather amused.

"But you want to know _everything_. Unless, of course, you just want to know the _interesting_ stuff, which is entirely different."

"What were you doing, watching that?" Hermione demanded of Harry.

Without missing a beat, Harry replied, "I was an Auror for twenty years."

Ron continued, "Some sounds you just react to on instinct."

"Screams of pain."

"Struggling."

"The like."

Molly cleared her throat. "That is quite enough on Draco Malfoy's sex life."

But Fred wasn't done. He asked, "So, is Pansy like, a total dominatrix? Because George and I have a bet-"

Molly threw a pillow at her son, effectively causing him to shut up. He found it very hard to talk _and_ gape openly at his mother in dumbfounded shock.

"If it makes you feel any better," Harry said, patting Severus on the back in mock consolation, "Professor McGonagall knew, too."

The Slytherin rounded on the Gryffindor Head of House and snarled. "She knew, as well?" he demanded of Albus.

"Of course; she was there."

"Why wasn't _I_ there?"

"If I recall correctly, you were pouting in your dungeon because I told you that you had to play nice with Igor Karkaroff, and your ensuing temper tantrum got you confined to your office for the day."

The students really gave it the old college try to not laugh. They did fairly well, until Molly of all people chuckled. The damn broke, and the Twins burst into laughter. "Snape got a time-out!"

That caused Hermione and Ginny to giggle, as well. It was the look on Severus' face that got to Ron, Harry, and most of the rest of the group. He looked as if he had swallowed a lemon and taken a punch to the gut at the same time.

He composed himself and straightened his back. "I think I will be going now." He swept from the room with all the dignity he could muster.

Albus looked to Harry, who had a glint in his eye. "Well, child, is your blood-lust sated for the day?" Albus asked, unable to mask the twitch of his mustache.

Harry gave an insincere nod, "Of course."

"I am unconvinced."

Harry smirked at him. "You know me too well!"


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**October 31****st****, 2038 CE**

Harry and Ron rushed home from the Ministry to be with their family. Harry, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Warden of Azkaban Prison, changed his shirt as he ran through the main wing of the Ministry.

Ron, Head Auror and Auror in Charge of Recruitment and Training, sprinted beside his best friend and brother-in-law. He was fumbling for his wand to apparate and he narrowly avoided running into Luna Lovegood, Ministry Correspondent for the hugely popular _Quibbler_.

"See you at dinner, Luna!" Ron yelled.

"See you!" she replied, waving absently.

They arrived just as Bill arrived with his wife, Fleur, and their children. Greetings were exchanged. Harry's own grandchildren ran out to greet him.

He missed the grandkids he'd had before. Things had turned out differently. Different children had blessed his life the second time around. He was not sure whether that was good or bad.

Albus Remus, born two months before Albus Dumbledore past away of a second stroke, had come first. He had Harry's black hair and mischievous grin.

James Severus was born a year later, with his mother's red hair and sweet disposition.

Another year later, Sirius John was born.

Then came twins Molly Lily and Minerva Grace.

With five children, the Potter house was a busy one. As they grew, Harry grew to appreciate them and their unique attributes, so different from James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. He mourned the loss of his first three children, and their children, but learned to move on.

His five children brought him many, many grandkids. The Potter/Weasley clan grew to more than seventy-five people with only four generations. It seemed as if a new one was popping out every month.

Harry's marriage to Ginny was happier than it had been the first time. Harry had not suggested executions as a punishment. Instead, he reworked the entire judicial system and cracked down on crime.

Ron never became Minister, because he never had any important legislation to push through. He and Harry were content to live quiet lives with their ever-growing families.

Albus Dumbledore died five years after Voldemort fell, and was Headmaster until Harry's last year at Hogwarts. He retired and moved in with Harry, due to his failing health. Harry took care of him and learned a lot from the man who had lived more than a century. In fact, together, they wrote a book about the wizarding world, dark lords, and families.

Albus' first stroke nearly sent Harry over the edge. Ginny had just told him she was pregnant when it happened. When Albus Remus was born, Albus Dumbledore held him with a look of pure joy. His passing was peaceful, and his funeral was huge. Harry was devastated, but his family and newborn son helped him cope.

Minerva became Headmistress after Albus retired. She worked hard to unify the school, and did a damn fine job of it. The old Gryffindor died at much the same age as she had the first time, surrounded by friends and loved ones.

Severus Snape became Headmaster after her, and was actually very good at it. He was on speaking, first name terms with Harry, and they occasionally shared tea.

Remus married Tonks, who changed her name to Tonks Nymphadora Lupin. They had thre children together, two boys and a girl. Sirius was Godfather of the oldest, Ted. Harry was Godfather of the second child, John. Ron was Godfather to the youngest, Andromeda Lupin.

Sirius married and had two children, whom Harry and Remus were godfathers for. Regulas was the oldest, and Felix was his little brother.

Fred and George waited to get married, but when they did, they had a boatload of kids each. It was hard to keep track of who fathered who, because all of the children look so much alike.

Harry entered the house that Halloween day, feeling old and worn out as he carried two grandchildren. He was fifty-eight again, or, more accurately, one hundred and two years old. He and Ron were known as 'wise beyond their years' at the Ministry. If only those people knew.

"Honey, I'm HOME!" Harry bellowed as he entered the Burrow. The old house, which had gone through many renovations and modifications, was filled to capacity.

Ginny Weasley Potter, smiling tolerantly, entered from the kitchen and shook her head at her dopy husband. Her vibrant red hair, graying in some spots, fell into her eyes as she laughed softly.

"It's about time, Mr. Potter. I feel I've waited a lifetime."

**The Beyond**

Lily looked at all those that surrounded her. Missing this time was Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Severus, Colin, Fred, and Cedric. They were all with Harry, happy and leading rich, fulfilled lives.

Lily turned to James, the only one that had been present when she had made her announcement to fix things.

The others, who had lived longer than previously, looked at her as she drew a deep breath. "Told you so," she said to her husband.

He stared at her as she strode away, confounded.


End file.
